I give a foot massage and spring a leak

This is going to be a bit of a rambling grab bag of a post. It turns out, when I am away on business for a while and have nothing better to do than binge-read Thumper’s chastity blog, my mind goes into a bit of a joy-ride through the country-side. I feel like a particularly unhealthy sort of groupie. Also: He likes what? She does what? Oh my god, I can feel my package disappearing.

In the previous post, I talked about the frenum, and how avoiding its stimulation might be an easy way to be chaste on the honor system. Bear declares that he has taken ownership of my frenum. It’s a small strip of skin, and I joke about becoming his by quarter-square-inch pieces over the next decades. The reality is: This is huge. Taking ownership of my frenum means taking complete ownership of my orgasm. I am an excited sub.

Usually, when I was about to go for a trip, Bear would have me come beforehand. I had told him that I was very hopeful that my new-found discovery that I need frenum stimulation to come would keep me easily obedient, that I knew he used to have me come beforehand but that I’d like a chance to build trust and show that wasn’t necessary, and of course it was up to him. Holy subangst, batman, but submissive people can be wordy and convoluted.

So, Sunday, I get a treat. Not only does he want to fuck me, he wants to fuck me in pet get-up: Leather dog mask, complete with cock-shaped rubber gag, and leather mittens. This was his idea, about a year ago, and I am so into it. The fact that it was his idea, and not mine, makes it a gazillion times hotter.

All the while we are active, and I am focusing on his pleasure, I am also distracted. I’m wearing mittens, so I probably won’t come. Wait, he had me take one of the mittens off so I can stroke him back to full mast, so maybe I will come. And so on, ad nauseam. I really, really need to work on being in the moment. I will come or I won’t, and that’s his call, not mine. It’s hard not to obsess – but really, I shouldn’t obsess. That resolution is more along the lines of “I should really go on a diet”, truthfully. Still. One should strive.

So, the sex was great. He likes to use KY warming jelly when we have anal sex, which burns initially, though does not hurt, and then becomes very pleasurable. I like that it makes it harder for me to take him, that I have to accept the initial discomfort for him. He also likes pressing down on me when he takes me, which adds to the fantasy of being forced. Which is so unbelievably hot to me.

And when he’s done, we snuggle. And that’s it. I tell him I was trying to figure out whether I’d come. He asks me how long it’s been. I say 7 days. He says “OK”. And that’s that, time to take the gear off and sleep. I love him so much in that moment. Later, we wake up again and I thank him for not letting me come, and he says “I figured 7 days wasn’t quite enough.” That’s exciting, and a little scary. So it begins.

The night before I travel, I go to bed early, around 7pm. I have to be up at 3am. He comes to bed around 11pm, I think. I’m groggy, half-lift my head from my pillow and give a limp-wristed wave. A little later, I am startled out of snoozing by something cold tapping my shoulder. Huh? Oh. The cock ring. “Thank you.” I put it on and am instantly raging hard. When he’s done with bedtime preparations, he teases my cock lazily. I’m in hog heaven. Sleep that night is fitful, and when I get up at 3am, he teases me some more, though he’s clearly half asleep himself. I really don’t want to get out of bed now, but I do, and get ready, and kiss him good-bye and leave.

Just a short while ago, he’d have been concerned that I need my sleep, and he would have avoided doing anything that robs me of it. Now, he doesn’t have that inhibition. Teasing me is fun for him and me, so he did it, without regard for my sleep pattern. I am loving it. I can always sleep some more on the plane.

Being away for the next 3 days is tough. I go into a bit of a sub angst tailspin. I doubt, and I fret. There’s a history to that, which I’ll write down soonish. Our relationship started with D/s, and that failed miserably, and there was hurt. This on top of my tendency to worry anyway, and I’m a bit of a mess. Though I’m telling myself to snap out of it – I know I’ll be fine when I’m back home.

While chatting on the phone one night, I mention that I’ve seen Thumper’s trajectory from going 6 days without orgasm and crawling up the walls to going 6 months without orgasm and going “wait! It was supposed to be 18 months!” And what that might mean in the context of Bear’s interest in trying a device. There seems to be a slope to these things.

“Does that scare you?”, he asks me.

“Yes,” I say.

“Good,” he says.

And just like that, I am raging hard. Scared, and excited at the same time. Turns out I like it when I am scared, I like it when he takes me out of my comfort zone – even if it’s just by talking about uncomfortable and scary possibilities.

I also create a mind map of my needs and wants, relationship and sex/kink both, and prepare one for Bear. My intent is to communicate openly, honestly and vulnerably with him. And to hear about his needs and wants first, and then see how I can fulfill them. It is a lot harder for him to articulate what he needs and wants than it is for me. So it would be easy for me to start in on a discussion of my own stuff, and then ask him “and what about you?” In the past, I’ve done that, and it doesn’t work, at least not for us. It’s the wrong way round. I am sucking the air out of the room, and so we never get to the part I actually most need to know: What he needs and wants.

So, this time around, 14 years wiser about our relationship, let’s hear about him first. The plan I have is to listen to that, and make enthusiastic encouraging noises, as I expect it will mesh somewhere with my own needs and wants, almost inevitably.

It is important to me that the emphasis, from my end, is on my need to submit to him – not my want to be dominated by him. There is a difference.
My want to submit focuses on him: What does he want, and how can I fulfill it. My desire to be dominated focuses on me: What are my fantasies, and how can he be the dominant in those fantasies. I’ve known that on some level, but to be honest, this clear way of stating it comes from reading Thumper.

I do have those fantasies of being dominated, and I share them. But when I focus on the fantasy, it becomes self-defeating. The reality of the fantasy is only fulfilling when I do as he desires. The moment the dynamic is turned around, and he fills a role in my fantasy, it loses its potency. It also screws with our dynamic something fierce.

Incidentally, it is my task to put away the toys and rope. Before I left, I didn’t, because there was a pile of laundry sitting on the toy chest, and that disheartened me. I had asked him to move his laundry. While I am away, he calls me out on not stowing the rope.

“But,” I say. “There’s all that laundry on the chest.”

“Does not matter,” he says. “When I give you a task, I expect you to do it. Don’t answer by giving me a task in return.”

And he’s right. I apologize, he accepts my apology. The D/s overlay of our relationship is unequal. This is one of those moments where I knew that intellectually, but I didn’t fully process what that means. What that means is that he can give me a task, and even though something he needs to do may stand in the way, I still have to do my task without undue delay. That’s how that works. It’s embarrassingly simple, but feels like an important shift in my attitude to me.

One other thing I do while I am away is try to masturbate, avoiding the frenum. It’s a sad, half-hearted attempt. I give up after a minute or so. My heart’s not in it, my cock never really goes past half-mast. But a few words from Bear about fear, see above, and I am instantly hard. My pleasure re-orients itself increasingly towards him, and I feel very hopeful about that.

When I am back home, and the evening meal and chores are out of the way, we talk. My sub angst melts away pretty much immediately, as I expected it would in his presence. It is replaced by a feeling of deep submissiveness and wanting to serve. What I learn tonight is:

  • He needs oral sex
  • He wants to control every aspect of my orgasm. He mentions the time he tied me to the door and teased me and then gave me the most intense orgasm of my life, and that he got a huge kick out of that.
  • He wants me to serve him. He adds foot massage and OJ for breakfast to my tasks.
  • He wants me to submit to him, and mentions that this may be slowly morphing to a need.

Plenty for an evening, and a wonderful start. These are concrete things I can work with. I explore my emotions about orgasm control, and come to realize that my failure to be obedient was screwing with our dynamic on a fundamental level. I never really gave it a chance to develop. Whenever I came without permission, it would dishearten both of us.

I may come to eat crow on these words, but: I think I have it figured out now. The past five days were intense. Had I been allowed to touch my frenum, I would have come without permission, no doubt. The animal part of me that just wants to come is incredibly good at justification, at fooling me about how close I am, about “just one more lazy stroke” until it’s too late. I admire the guys that have more control. Now, I don’t need that level of control.

And just like that, I get the impression I’ve turned a corner in my development as my husband’s submissive partner. I feel so much more ready to focus on him, rather than fretting about my failures, or whether I am going to fail. Orgasm control, for better or worse, is the foundation of our D/s dynamic.

That oral sex is a need for Bear is surprising. I knew he liked it, I didn’t know he needed it. Fulfilling that need is effortless for me.

When it is time for bed, I offer a foot massage, and Bear happily accepts. So there I am, rubbing away at his feet with lotion, semi-erect, pent-up sexual energy sloshing around within me. I really don’t have a thing for feet, but in this state, that hardly matters. When I move to his calves, I can feel a cold string of precum hit my inner thigh.

“That’s really strange,” I say. “I am not a foot fetishist. But I am a serving-you fetishist.”

“Thank God”, he mumbles into his pillow.

Blasphemous banter and laughter follow. We turn in, he again hands me the cock ring, then places his hand on my cock and lets it rest there. I stroke his erection in turn. I am desperately horny, physically so very needy to come: And emotionally, I float on a pool of calm, filled with happy submission. Life couldn’t be better. “I am so lucky to have you as my husband,” I say, and more things besides, just happy, dopamine-filled babble.

When he takes his hand away, I moan deeply, my back arches, my ass lifts from the mattress, and my cock twitches of its own volition. This is an unfiltered reaction. I could make an effort to be stoic, but I’d deprive Bear of pleasure. That’d be a tragedy.

In the middle of the night, I awake with a raging hard-on. I have the hardest time going back to sleep, so after a while, I give up, and finish this blog post. Maybe not the most productive thing I could have done.

I have a few more things I want to talk about in future posts. After that, it may just become “a day in the life”, chronicling emotions and relationship building and (hopefully) steamy sex. I think I don’t have much angst and drama left – though if past experiences are any guide, never bet against my capacity for angst.



The Frenum

It’s been a year, just about. A year since we had a long talk and brought D/s1 back into our relationship on a daily basis, a year since Bear took control of my orgasm.

We are on vacation, and we have some time to ourselves in our schedule of driving and seeing sights, and so, “finally!” a part of me cries, the ropes come out, and it’s play time.

Bear has me put on the cock ring, a beauty of rounded steel and engraved tribal designs, which I do eagerly. He plays with my erection, running a finger lightly over the underside of my cock, cupping my balls. I sigh and moan and melt into his shoulder.

He takes some para cord and ties my cock and balls, separating them and wrapping around a few times, finishing off with a bow tie. If I was erect before, I am raging hard now. He lies back on the bed, his feet hanging off the edge, and orders me to suck him.

I am kneeling beside the bed, between his legs, with his cock in my mouth. I lick and stroke, paying attention to the underside of his cock head and his corona – the ridge – with my tongue and lips. I fondle his balls with my hands. All the while, I am very aware of my own erection, which flags to half mast and then returns to full strength, tingling.

After a while of this, he has me stop and grabs some pink rope, MFP, not the blue hemp he brought as well. I smile. Pretty in pink, hah. He ties a pretty quick and simple “spreader bar” between my hands using the rope, then has me going back to sucking him.

I redouble my efforts, now using my bound hands to fondle his balls. As he nears orgasm, he starts thrusting into my mouth with a will, and I can tell he’s in his favorite oral rape fantasy. On the last few thrusts, he enters my throat, and I open up as best I can. I gag as he comes, happy to give myself to him this way.

“Are you okay?” he asks, as he’s coming down from his own orgasm.
“Fine,” I say. “I was just gagging a bit towards the end.”
“Was that a problem?” he asks, concerned.
“No,” I say. “I know you were in a rape fantasy. I enjoyed it.”

He smiles, has me come up on the bed, and dozes off to sleep. I am still bound2), still raging hard. He came, I didn’t, and this fills me with deep satisfaction. It’s been something like 4 days since I last came, not that long.

That is a big difference to a year ago. A year ago, when I didn’t come for a while, I’d get grumpy. When I’d get highly aroused, or close to orgasm, and there was no orgasm forth-coming, I’d get defiant. There was a part of me that insisted that I deserved an orgasm, even as another part of me wanted to obey. After all, this is what I had asked for: Command me. Let me obey. Please. And he did, and it was just as hard as I expected.

That defiant voice led to me coming willfully, several times. He corrected me very gently, increasing the length of time between orgasms, and encouraging me in my efforts to quiet that defiant voice. I do not recall how long that took, but I am thinking the better part of 4 to 5 months. What I did then, what worked for me, was to stroke myself under his supervision, and to acknowledge that defiant voice, and to counteract it with the knowledge of what I truly wanted: To obey. I also muttered a little mantra under my breath, about how my orgasm was his, not mine, and how grateful I was for being given this pleasure (the stroking) by him.

It’s all a bit silly, but it worked for me. After the last correction period of 3 weeks, towards the end of which I’d have spontaneous and almost painfully intense erections at the strangest of times, such as while driving, the defiant voice was largely quieted.

And now, a year into this game, I am grateful when I don’t come. As I wanted to be all along.

Yet, I am not where I want to be. I still struggle with obedience. I no longer “edge”, but I do stroke myself, and inevitably, I misjudge how close I am, or I get close in a sudden rush, and then I will come without permission, again. Every 2 to 3 weeks this happens, and it leaves me unhappy, and it leaves him unhappy, despite our understanding that “things happen” and I should just strive to do better. But I’ve not been doing better for many months, now.

And so it is now, as well. With my cock and balls bound, and my hands bound, I start stroking my foreskin back and forth over my shaft, slowly, while thinking on the ways I serve Bear, and how much I enjoy them. Bringing him coffee and breakfast in the morning, presenting them naked and kneeling. Scrubbing him in the shower. Staying chaste for him, especially that. And just like that, a sudden rush, and I take my hands away in a hurry. Try to think of unerotic things. Ignaz Kiechle‘s underwear!  Hey, it works. I’m backing away from the edge. Great. Quick, what other unappealing thing can I think of – and my cock twitches. Oh, no. Twitches again. And so, maybe five seconds after I took my hands away, I ejaculate. Well damn.

I get out of bed, clean up, get back into bed. I’m bummed. For the love of. Again. Will I get this right, eventually? And how do I get it right? What haven’t I tried yet?

Sure, there’s been progress. Even half a year ago, the urge to finish myself off when I get that close would have been almost overpowering. Now, that urge is still there, but the urge to take my hands away and NOT FAIL GODAMMIT is much stronger.

“Well,” a part of me says, “if it’s that hard to control yourself, just don’t stroke.” But I know that doesn’t work. Not only does that leave me in a foul mood, which is no fun for Bear or me, but it also takes a degree of willpower I just do not possess. So that’s out as a solution.

I am no endurance athlete who goes without orgasm for months or years at a time: Bear has me come about once a week, maybe every 10 days. He likes seeing me come, and, frankly, I am terrible at being obedient for much longer than that.

A few days later, back home, I start reading. I read about the science behind chastity and pleasure, dopamine and oxytocin and prolactin, as described by kelmag on his blog. He contends that devices for control are necessary, as no one possesses that much willpower to go against their own brain chemistry forever. I must have especially low willpower, because it doesn’t take forever, just 2 to 3 weeks.

We don’t use devices. We use the “honor system”, and I get a real kick, a big kick, out of the thought that I am obeying him, that I could come but I’m not – except that never works for long, and then I am frustrated and angry with myself, and then I try again, and so the cycle goes.

So, maybe, I think, I need to give that up, and look into devices. I tell Bear I am. He’s not convinced at first. Some devices anchor by a piercing, and he thinks that it’s a bit extreme to get a piercing just for that functionality. I tell him that I think it’s actually kinda hot to me to be marked that way, to be marked semi-permanently.

As I look around, I share devices I find – the Steelworxx ones Thumper wears, some Mature Metal devices (same source, I think – he does seem to like his toys, that rabbit), and Lori’s devices. Her site design makes me cringe and takes me right back to the early 90s, but the devices are intriguing.

And while looking through Lori’s creations, I found a customer talking about a “modified 8B” (at the bottom of that page), and she had this to say about her boyfriend: “I didn’t want to stop Ben’s erections, or make him less masculine, but I loved the idea of essentially “muzzling” his penis, which, since he’s only able to come through frenum stimulation, proved quite doable.

Could it be that simple? That thought had simply never occurred to me. Maybe, if I didn’t touch my frenum, the short band of tissue at the underside of the cock head that holds the foreskin, I wouldn’t have “accidents”. Maybe that would be a way of honoring the honor system, without needing superhuman reserves of willpower. Just a tiny amount of willpower would do.

Over the next few days, I experimented. I’d rub the top of my cock, or rub the corona and cock head, but never below, never near the frenum. This meant changing masturbation habits. For simple mechanical reasons, sliding my foreskin back and forth was not an option any more, as that would tug on the frenum.

As I got bolder, I started using cream (I like Stroke 29 a lot), using the flat of my hand to rub over the top of my cock head. And it seemed to be working. I could feel a tingling in my balls and cock, I could feel that sensation of “being close to being close”, the point where you know that just a few minutes more of this will get you close – and I never got close.

Time to test this new theory in earnest! And if it doesn’t work, hey, I’ll have another orgasm out of it. The brain is terribly good at justifications. One morning, still wearing the cock ring from the night, I added ball weights, and I impaled myself on my favorite dildo, with plenty of lube. I was giving myself as much additional stimulation as I knew how. It can take me 20 minutes to come even when I am desperate, so I figured I’d try this for 30.

So for the next 30, actually 35, minutes, I stroked and teased, going faster, going slower, feeling delicious and feeling frustrated, and never getting close. Around minute 20, I was about to throw the towel in.  Around minute 25, I gave up all pretense, and did try to make myself come, desperately and in earnest – just still not touching my frenum. And around minute 35, I gave up, satisfied that at least at this level of arousal, there’s no way I am going to come without direct frenum stimulation.

And maybe, just maybe, I can’t come at all without direct frenum stimulation. I hope that’s true. It’d mean a device is an option, not a necessity.

Now, when I tease myself, as I am allowed to do, there’s a tiny portion of my brain that says “come on! Wrap your hand around! Just a couple strokes, what’s the harm?” Even for my brain, that’s a pretty feeble attempt, and easily resisted.

A wonderful side effect of not touching my frenum is that it has become even more sensitive than it was before. Bear teases me frequently, usually mornings and evenings, and I am just about going out of my mind now when he does. I squirm, I moan, I arch my back. I continue shuddering when he takes his hand away. I strain with every fiber of my being, and I love every moment of it.

I also really enjoy the mind game of thinking that this part of my cock, the frenum, is now his, and I can only touch it with his explicit permission. That is mild compared to what others do with ownership: But that way madness lies. This is about Bear and me, and comparing what we do to others, though I still do it, is not terribly fruitful.

And a device? May still happen. Now that I may no longer strictly need it to obey, he’s liking the idea of seeing one on me. I fully expect it’ll be a long time before that happens. Years, likely. If he wants a device that covers just the cock head, then getting a frenum piercing and widening it to be at a safe gauge that will not tear or migrate from the weight of the device would take close to a year. If he wants a more classic device, a piercing is not necessary – and still, I don’t expect to see this anytime soon.

And that’s great. I like knowing that the option is out there, and that he can make that call. He has my consent, now it’s up to him.

In the meantime, I am really hopeful that I have it figured out now: That I will come when he wants me to, and not otherwise, at least for the vast majority of the time. The next few weeks should tell.



  1. I’ll refrain from explaining what that term means. Go google it if it’s unfamiliar. 

  2. For the inevitably concerned: With plenty of play in the bind, nothing near any nerves and pressure points, and no sign of anything tingling or chafing or going to sleep. I am a responsible submissive. :