Tag: tease and denial

Posted on

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.

Posted on

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.

Posted on

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.

Posted on

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.

Posted on

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.

Posted on

Travel wear

It occurs to me that I’ll be travelling at the end of October. Those of you keeping score at home realize that the end of October would be a little over half way through the three month program Belle placed me on the other day. Everyone else with even a passing understanding of me and my horny rabbit brain knows I can’t be trusted to keep my hands off the meat, especially after six or seven weeks…alone…in a hotel room. Oh, god yes. That would be fantastic…

So, yeah, I will need to be secured. And the Steelheart can’t fly. I’ve been trying to figure out ways of travelling with it, but they all require me having a key since Belle won’t be with me. If I have the key and am expected to take it off prior to x-ray and such, then I might as well leave it at home. I’m a good rabbit, but still just a dumb bunny. The temptation would be too great.

I suppose I could always break out the old CB-6000, but Belle seems to have retired it permanently. This is based on aesthetics more than anything else and, as I said, she won’t be with me, so maybe she’d be OK with me wearing it. The stainless-looking model is off the table since, as I’ve pointed out, it’s very rough on the cock and I’m not even sure the chrome finish wouldn’t trigger the metal detector anyway.

The other option is a new device. Travel wear, as it were. Something for those times when the full metal jacket is not practical. Given a choice between using something old or buying something new, I tend to lean towards the new stuff. And that’s lead me to the PA-5000. I’ve read several reviews so I know it’s not perfect, but all I really need is a physical barrier sufficient to making jacking off difficult. I need a deterrent.

I’ve been very curious about the PA5K since it came out. I have no idea what it will feel like. Chastity has always been equal parts cock and ball constriction. Now, it will just be the cock. Also, large portions of it will be open to sensation. Very different than the Steelheart which sometimes feels like a sensory depravation chamber.

I think I measured it right. The tube come in three sizes and they recommend a quarter inch larger than your flaccid state. I measured this quite a while back and I’m about 34mm (about 1.33″) in diameter when soft, but the largest tube they sell has a diameter of 31.75mm (1.25″). When hard, I’m 40mm (about 1.57″) in diameter, so the tube will definitely be snug. I am not accustomed to ever wearing the largest of anything on the cock, so I guess we’ll just see how it goes. The funny thing about penises is they’re highly variable little hunks of meat. I’m sure it will work out. Expect a full report as soon as Belle lets me wear it.

On other fronts, I’m starting just my sixth day of lock-up after being in for two months. I can say that, right now, I’m way hornier at six days than I was at six weeks. Funny how that works. Belle (and everyone in the house) went to bed kind of early last night leaving me wide-eyed and restless. I eventually picked up my phone and started reading stories on the Kristen Archives (the porn site for every perversion). Hours later, I finally put the phone down, exhausted, only to fall into a very restless sleep.

I’ve said before that I don’t often get blue balls, but I had them last night and right up until this morning. Yeah, part of the ache was caused by the ring and the near constant erection I had all night, but it was way worse than usual. They felt much more swollen and tender. There was definitely a big load of something backing up in there. Every time I’d turn over, the device would flop heavily from one side to the other taking my fat balls with it. I couldn’t find a comfortable position and each time I moved to a new one it’d get another wave of achy ball pain.

I was awake way before Belle and, as soon as I figured out she was up, too, I was all over her. It’s that non-specific sexual urge feeling where I just want to squeeze her into a ball and grind my steel tube into her. I was breathing hard and kissing her mouth and trying my best not to bite her face when she said, “Why don’t you put that energy into making my coffee?”

“Anything, Belle Fille. Anything you want,” I said breathily, “It’s all for you.”

Posted on

Nope

We were at a nice restaurant last night. Unexpectedly, both the kids were away so we got a surprise date night.

“You thought I was going to let you out this weekend,” Belle said over the caesar and crab cakes, “You said so on the blog.”

“Yes,” I replied, “You dropped hints. You practically told me you were going to let me out.”

“What did I say?” she asked.

“I don’t remember specifically, but hints were dropped. Several of them.”

“Well, whatever I may have said, you misinterpreted it.”

“Really?” Fork full of romaine paused in mid-flight.

“Yes.”

“So I’m not getting out?”

“No.”

Pause. “I thought I was. This weekend.”

“Nope.”

Pause. “And you knew I thought this and you just let me go ahead thinking it?”

“Yep.”

“Why?”

“Because I can.”

Damn.

Looking at the calendar, it’s entirely unlikely I’ll be out in either of the next two weekends. That means I will have been left in the device for over two months at least. At one point, she mentioned our anniversary in mid-October as a goal but she also mentioned my birthday which is in early September. At any rate, it seems as though I need to get any idea of release out of my mind since it’s not happening soon and nothing she says on the matter can be trusted.

—

Back at the ranch, with the candles lit and me naked as directed, I started to get into bed before she stopped me. I hadn’t asked permission. Bad boy. I asked and she let me in.

I knelt on the bed before her, the device that was not coming off glinting softly, and she pulled out the handcuffs. She ratcheted them down tightly, but not too tightly. Then she brought out my collar. Ooooooh, my collar! I love that thing. She hadn’t put it on me in so long. I dropped my head and she attached it snugly around my throat.

“Now you know how the dog feels,” she said.

Whimper.

Finally, she brought out the Japanese butterfly clips. She pulled my nipples out with her fingers so the clips would grab a fat chunk of meat. So there I was, caged, collared, cuffed and clipped. Bliss.

I nuzzled into her with my face, awkwardly trying to balance with my wrists chained together. I wanted to smell her, feel her. Kiss her. I kissed her neck, her jaw, her chin – her beautiful lips were right there – when she yanked down on the chain between the clips, pulling me with them. Yes, it hurt, but it was all the really good kind of hurt. I was so there. So ready to be abused.

She released the chain and I started back up her body, trying again for the kiss. She pulled me back again, this time I didn’t even make it to her neck. Several more times we did this – me going up, her pulling me back down – before she finally let me get to her mouth. The kissing was all the more fantastic for the waiting. For the work it took to get there. Between my legs, the heavy tube strained to rise, plump full of cock.

She directed me to the side of the bed. She got up and walked around to where I was. I felt the suede lashes gently run down the length of my back and over my ass. Then, the opposite journey, up over my ass then toward my shoulders. Gentle. Soft. A warning.

Lightly at first, so I could get used to the sensation, I felt the flogger fall across my upturned ass cheeks and upper thighs. I arched my back to bring my ass even further up, but in doing so unwittingly exposed my nutsack so that when she hit me with the first really strong stroke, the lashes also found my balls. I don’t know if she meant to do that, but the full force of the flogger striking my sack – already pulled tight by the erection filling the tube – made me see stars and scream into my pillow.

She alternated back and forth between the flogger and the crop. I was free to cry out as loudly as I wanted since the house was empty. It stung (especially the really hard blows), but the pain – all of it – was warm and almost soothing, in a way. More than once, my reaction to the blows caused the cock to flex and I felt slugs of precum travel down the compressed meat. I was so. Fucking. Loving it. As usual, I lost track of time. Also as usual, as soon as she was done, I wanted more. More and more and more. And harder. I still don’t know how deep I can go when I feel like that. When the pain is all good and I’m really humming. What’s my limit?

Mind you, I’m not complaining. I loved it. Every second. And I love her for doing it for me.

She backed me out by again running the flogger lightly over my back and ass. Then she uncuffed me. Then, sadly, the collar came off. Finally, the clips came off the nipples. Twin flares of pain shot up as the little jaws unclamped. I laid next to her as we went to bed. Loving her. Adoring her. Wanting to fuck her so goddamn badly. I told her so.

“I’ll let you know when you’ve earned it,” she replied sleepily.

Posted on

Handjob

I think I’m going to come this weekend. Belle’s been dropping hints. I think, after the month and half (or whatever it’s been), that she wants her cock inside her.

On the one hand, I could describe the usual angst that goes along with coming, etc., but on the other hand I’m really fucking horny. Really. No, I’m serious. Really. I was looking forward to the challenge of staying in and orgasmless until October, but yeah, coming would be nice too.

Thing is, I don’t want to come just a little. I want to come and come and come. I want to spew for days. And, of course, because I’m the charmingly complicated fellow that I am, I also don’t want to come. Not at all. Like, ever. Complicated.

The other day, she offered me a session with the njoy Pure if I accomplished a small list of chores over the course of the day. What I really wanted, though (and what I’ve wanted for weeks) was to feel the cock, nice and hard, getting stroked. Besides, she wouldn’t want to be there when I fucked myself with it and I really wanted to connect with her. I wanted to be with her, no matter what happened. The Pure is a solo activity with Belle. So, after finishing my tasks, I asked if I could exchange the Pure time with a 15 minute edging session. She agreed.

That night, she unlocked me and I placed the various metal bits that came off onto my bedstand. She started to play with the cock. It seemed a little dazed in that it took a while for it to start to plump up. Like it was being duped or something. Like it didn’t trust what was happening. But it eventually came around and she started a nice rhythmic pumping on the rapidly inflating meat that caused me to arch back and close my eyes. It was fantastic. Stroke stroke stroke stroke stroke. It was so fucking nice.

Then she let go. I panted. I wasn’t really ready to come, but I was getting into the groove pretty well. After a few minutes, she started again with the pumping. Same story as last time, except I could feel the disused ejaculation mechanism warming up just before she let go again leaving the meat hot and bobbing. My left hand grasped and ungrasped wanting so badly to wrap around the hard cock that was so close, but she hadn’t said I could and I sensed I wasn’t allowed.

She started in again and I felt myself fall into the sensation of her handjob, the thin, sensitive skin sliding under her hand, over the flare of the cock head, back down the shaft. I closed my eyes again and felt nothing but the strokes: up down up down up down, again and again. Nothing else existed except that hand job. And just as I was slipping away – just as I felt the orgasm that had been waiting six or more weeks to come into being start to build – she let go. I groaned. Sweet Jesus, I wanted that back. More than air.

“Can I do it? Can I stroke it?” I pleaded as calmly as possible.

“Do you think you deserve it?” she asked, “Did you do a good enough job to have earned that?”

I thought about it. Fuck it, I thought. Say yes! Just say yes, yes you did and get to it!

“No,” I said quietly. Meekly.

“I don’t either,” she replied as she placed the baggy fully of icy water onto the still-hard cock.

It was so cold, that water. It hurt. The blood in the engorged flesh fought back, but I could feel it deflating just a bit with each thump of my heart. We had previously agreed that I’d go back in the device when the session was over, so once I felt the cock wither sufficiently to allow me to put it on, I reached for the metal.

“You can stay out for the night.”

ARGH! The cock was now cold and small. Useless. And she was rolling over to go to sleep.

“I might jack off in my sleep, you know.” It’s true. I’ve woken up doing that more than once.

“Try not to,” she said back to me, shortly.

So anyway, yeah, now I think she’s going to really fuck me. This weekend, I bet. Maybe I’ll come, maybe I won’t. Maybe she’s just fucking with my head. I don’t think so, though. At least, I don’t think I don’t think so.

Like I said. Complicated.

Posted on

Pure pleasure

As I mentioned in my previous post, the njoy Pure arrived yesterday. Mere happenstance brought me home early (no, I swear) so I had a chance to get it wet all by myself and then, because I liked it so much, I made use of it again later that night. Here are my thoughts.

Before I start, I admit I’m not this thing’s typical consumer. Chances are I’ll never have an orgasm while using it. All it does for me is allow an outlet for my need to feel further heights of stimulation while also coaxing backed-up fluid out of my reproductive system. Most guys, I assume, would be jacking off while using it which, naturally, would lead to a very different outcome than mine.

The out-of-the-box experience is quite good. Not Apple kind of good, but way better than the majority of sex toys on the market with which I have experience. This is a premium implement and it comes with a premium package. The case itself is a sturdy black plastic and contains a cut-out in the shape of the Pure and is lined with soft cloth. Closed, it’s very understated and could live in a nightstand without attracting any undo attention. Since the surface of the Pure is polished stainless, I’m glad they include such a nice box in which to store it. The thing itself is pretty indestructible, but I’m sure it would scratch easily rolling around in the toy box.

The wand is 8 inches from end to end and terminates with a one inch ball on side and a 1.5 inch ball on the other. The balls are offset so, on the inside of the wand’s curve, they have a bit of a lip to catch on the sensitive bits of whatever orifice in which you’ve put it. It weighs in at just over 1.5 pounds and that, plus the mirrored finish, give it a presence to be reckoned with. As soon as you take it out of the box, you know this is a serious tool.

I’ve purchased at least four implements purpose-built for stimulating the prostate and I have to say that the Pure puts them all to shame. I used it for about a half hour in the afternoon and maybe an hour later that night and the Pure allowed me to feel things I’ve just never felt before. This thing fucking rocks.

I started out with the smaller end to get things rolling. I found the one inch ball, on the narrower end of the wand, to be all about precision. Seriously, I just can’t say this enough. With the Pure, I can hit places I hardly could before and with a consistency that literally took my breath away. Once the party really got started, I moved to the larger end. This side is about gravitas. You can feel the density and mass of the thing as it rides up and over your prostate. This isn’t about tickling or teasing, it’s about rolling over stuff and teaching it who’s boss. I can’t really say I liked one end more than the other. They both have a role to play and I found myself switching back and forth.

For lubrication, I used Astroglide. The stainless is so smooth, you don’t need much. One of the things I’ve always (or nearly always) experienced in the past with using dildos is an irritation and sensitivity around my anus afterward. The Pure, though, isn’t about penetration. It’s like a laser-guided smart bomb compared to the typical dildo’s bunker-busting brute force action. Once inserted, you can focus entirely on the P-spot and forget everything else. For those with hang-ups about penetration, this could be a really good thing. But, for those times when you just want to feel like you’re getting fucked, it’s not the best choice.

In any event, this morning I woke with the definite feeling of having an itch I’ve already scratched too much but want to keep on scratching. Inside, I feel like I’ve been raped by a biker gang (you know, in the good way), while outside is nothing but perfectly pink pucker. The Pure provides for an amazingly comfortable ride, both during and after. I can still feel a subtle happy glow burning away in my colon even now and admit, unless Belle texts me to put an end to my fun, I know exactly what I’ll be doing again tonight once the kids are asleep.

Another interesting aspect of the Pure is the temperature-trapping qualities of the stainless steel. I can imagine a lot of interesting temperature play options with this thing. Holding it in your hand for a few seconds takes the chill off as it can be a bit cold at first. After a little while, though, it comes out hot in a way I found very satisfying. So much of this device’s success, for me, is how it plays with your senses. Feeling it slip out as hot as I was after using it made me love it that much more.

Clean up is, naturally, a snap. The steel is totally non-porous which means it can be used with any lube and easily comes clean in hot soapy water. It’s not unlike a fork that way…

As a milking device, it’s exceptional. My earlier session seemed to have moved most of the accumulated fluid out so that, by the time things really got rolling that night, there wasn’t much left. I’ve always been a dribble and squirt kind of milker, though, and have marveled at the guys who’ve demonstrated the gush of fluid that comes out in a long continuous stream. I’d never been close to that kind of event, but I think, had I still been juicy, it would have happend to me last night. After 30-40 minutes of stimulation, I felt something like an urge to pee, but different. I can’t really describe the sensation, but it felt like, had the system still been primed, it would have been evacuating its contents at that moment.

It’s not all pixies and sunshine, though. The smooth mirrored surface responsible for the terrific comfort also makes holding on to the thing something of a challenge when it’s wet. It’s hard to feel as though you have a really good grip on it. Also, the weight can be an issue. You can just use it and use it and, eventually, your hand’s going to get tired. Finally, it’s expensive. I paid $108 with free shipping at Eden Fantasys. However, I think its expense is easily justified when you consider it should last, literally, a lifetime. Combined with how fantastically it does its job, I think buying one is a no-brainer. Next to Belle’s little pink vibe and the Steelheart, this is among the best sex toy purchases I’ve ever made.

Rating: 4.5 little fuzzy bunny tails out of five

Posted on

Abuse for one

Since coming home, I’ve been hopelessly, desperately horny. It’s not the slow burn kind of horny, either, but the insistent resonating kind that sits up in my chest and makes my arms feel light. I’m pretty much all over Belle whenever I have a chance and I find myself following her around from room to room. I fall asleep clutching her and whenever I stir at night it’s to find her body next to mine and curl into it again. All this latent sexual static hanging around is like shoveling coal into my subbie furnace. I am so feeling it.

In short, fucking awesome.

I was home alone for most of yesterday. Originally, I wasn’t sure which day I’d get back from my trip so I scheduled it off just in case. In any event, hours of alone time would usually mean at least one jack-off session back when such things were among my options. Had I been unlocked, I’m quite sure I would have been edging myself non-stop. However, I am locked and therefore any such behavior is impossible. But still. Damn. I’m horny.

I decided to make due with what I had available.

A couple of years ago, I bought some pants or something from Old Navy that had two clippy things connected by a shoelace. I have no idea what they were supposed to do, but I have three of them (for a total of six clips). I should post a picture of the things. They don’t fit together like a clothespin (where one side presses against the other). Instead, their ends interlock and form a circle when closed. Plus, their springs are more than a little tight. The end result is an absolutely wicked bite that’s far more intense than any device I’ve bought designed for nipple torture.

So yeah, I put them on. My nipple meat twisted between the pinchers and the pain was like twin lasers of pleasure shooting into my brain. A benefit of their clampiness and the way their ends fit together is that they grip incredibly well. I was able to pull them hard – much harder than even the Japanese butterfly clamps – before they’d finally come free. Of course, it’s no secret that the more stimulated one is, the more pain they’re able to tolerate. In the case of yesterday, I simply could not find my limit. These things are friggin’ medieval and pulling on the twisted pink meat caused a lot of pain, but all I could do was hurt myself more. There are few times I’ve felt like that.

It wasn’t enough, though. I needed something more.

Belle has long ago given me permission to milk myself as needed, so solo anal play is a permanent option for me. Thing is, even though I like taking it up the ass as well as the next boy, it’s not a pleasure in which I often partake. Not only is it a bit of a hassle (props, lube, clean-up, etc.), but I find that I have to be in a very particular frame of mind to kick it off. Yesterday, I was in that frame of mind. Fuck, I would have done anything.

I busted out a moderately-sized latex suction cup dildo I bought a few years back. It’s bigger than most men, but not ridiculously so. I find it fairly easy to accommodate while still providing a satisfying sensation. I wasn’t interested in demonstrating any amazing feats; I just wanted to get fucked.

I really don’t understand guys who won’t at least try taking it up the ass. Men are designed to experience intense pleasure that way though the conveniently-placed prostate. Of course, it’s all mental. Worries about cleanliness, whether or not it makes you gay, etc. Bullshit. It can be pure awesome when done right. I did it right.

I’m not sure if the denial makes the prostate more sensitive to stimulation, but there are times when it felt like a fucking supernova was up inside my colon. Being locked allows me to experience levels of stimulation I’ve never been able to before. I would have shot my load way before feeling what I get to feel now. It gets to the point where the penetration and the friction over the radiating prostate consumes everything and I simultaneously want it to go on forever but stop immediately before my head explodes.

Of course, the milking was successful. Like never before, actually. Early on, as the muscles in the region contracted involuntarily, I squeezed out several shots of clear precum. Then, milky white juices started to leak from the tube. Not in a big shot or a steady stream, but slowly and in little dribbles. Even hours later, I was finding a slick mess at the end of the tube. I have no idea how much came out, but it was substantial.

But even then, I wanted more. When Belle came home, I asked her to abuse my nipples when we went to bed. They were still sore from the earlier torture when she placed the chrome clothespins on them and then left them there. Again, it was nothing but liquid pleasure. She left them on for maybe ten minutes, during which time little moans and groans escaped from my throat and my ass squirmed into the bed. She wouldn’t let me mess with her, though, so I went to bed cruising though a mass of abject desire.

This morning, my nipples feel plump and tender, the large muscles in my thighs ache, and I can still feel the assault on my sphincter. Even so, I know for a fact I’d be doing it all over again today if I had the chance.