Prince Albert: 2ga

About a year ago, Bear had my cock pierced with a “Prince Albert” piercing. I started at a jewelry size of 8ga – about 1/8″ of an inch – and have stretched that, over this year, to 2ga today, about 1/4″ of an inch.

My last attempt to go to 2ga didn’t turn out well. This time around, I stretched much more slowly, over a period of a week and a half, and it still didn’t go well. As before, the newly stretched piercing would heal for about 3 days, and then get increasingly irritated and inflamed and sore again.

This time, I had alternate jewelry ready, a titanium captive bead instead of the surgical steel horseshoe barbell. That solved it, and allowed the piercing to heal.

I’m not sure why the steel barbell didn’t work for me. It’s possible the steel is not of the advertised quality and I had an allergic reaction, though the 4ga barbell by the same manufacturer was fine. It’s also possible it was just too damn heavy. I may try wearing it again when the piercing has had a few more months to heal.

I had a few reasons to want to be at 2ga.

I got pierced originally so a locking hollow “piss-through” titanium curved barbell by Steelwerks could go in there. That sounded insanely hot to the both of us. It turns out Bear likes the look of a captive bead ring a whole lot better than a curved barbell, so that idea is out, and a titanium “rainbow-hued” captive bead ring is in. It’s got the kinky “ermagerd it’s locked into me” factor as well: That thing isn’t going anywhere without using a very serious-looking tool.

I didn’t like that the ball at the end of the barbell could slip into my urethra. Well, it still can. It certainly can with the captive bead ring, and even the horseshoe barbell with a 1/2″ ball at the end is not immune to it. If Bear ever gets cured of his Crohn’s and I get to top him again, I may need to go to 0ga. That’s a far-off hypothetical, so I’m not bothered by it.

I wanted the jewelry to be thicker just because I liked the look of it. 2ga is a resounding success. It looks nice. Not so thick as to look out of scale in comparison to my cock head; thick enough to be substantial and not look flimsy.

No more stretching and cross-your-leg entries from me for the foreseeable future :).


Don’t stroke today

Early this year, up until the first week of February, I did not hold to my agreement with Bear. I’d stroke myself, giving in to a yearning for pleasure. And I’d tell myself I’d be fine, I wouldn’t ejaculate. And of course I did. Regardless of how clever I thought I was or how well I thought I could judge my excitement, I’d eventually go too far, take my hands away, and then 10 seconds later or so,  my cock would start pumping and there’d be a puddle. That must have happened three times in that short time.

And worse, I didn’t tell Bear about this, because I dreaded his response: That he felt disappointed in me. That’s the nuclear option of punishments, that is. There’s nothing I can do to redeem myself, and it feels awful.

Not that it gets any better by keeping him in the dark, but tell that to my brain.

I was so so tired of this pattern. I do well, I think I have myself in hand finally, Bear can be proud of me, and then, well, then it turns out I don’t have nearly as much self-control as I thought I had. And it feels like I’m back to square one. Though I know it’s not square one, it’s all part and parcel of learning.

At that point I had the idea to break  down the enormous, daunting task of obeying Bear for months and years, to just one day: Don’t stroke today. I even created it as a recurring task in Wunderlist. It felt good ticking it off every night.

I eventually did tell Bear about my lapses. He was not amused, as you might imagine. Even less about the fact that I hadn’t told him, and worse, had started playing word games: “The last time you let me orgasm was 15 weeks ago, Sir.” It was the praise I received for that statement that finally got me to see what I was doing, and to come clean.

We did talk about the emotional impact of his disappointment, and how my dread of that played into my silence. Not that that’s an excuse for my staying silent.

I kvetched that it wasn’t fair that half a year of obedience would be wiped out, in his view, by one moment of disobedience. But then, as I told him a day or so later after reflection, not fair is part and parcel of our dynamic. He has every right to not be fair.

During that discussion, Bear said, with incredulity in his voice: “But I just let you come!”

I gave a little laugh. “Yeah, 6 weeks ago.”

“That’s what I said,” Bear said. “That’s just.”

I mumbled something.

“Do you disagree?” Bear asked.

“No, Sir, I don’t disagree,” I said.

In retrospect, that moment was insanely hot.

In my frustration at not getting a handle on obedience, I asked, somewhat plaintively, if we couldn’t use a device sometimes. When I’m having a particularly rough time of it, say.

“I worry that’d let you off the hook,” Bear said. “You could just rely on the device, and not need to be obedient any more.”

He has an excellent point.

The “don’t stroke today” task worked well for a few months. At which point I, again, came without permission, about 6 weeks after Bear let me come. So, it didn’t work any better or any longer than anything else I’ve tried.

Bear has, quite possibly, let me off the hook after all. About 5 weeks ago he told me: “I’ve thought about it, and I want you to use the prostate toy you have to ejaculate. For health reasons. I don’t want our play to cause issues with your prostate. I used to think I didn’t want you doing that, because I’d no longer control your orgasms. But thinking on it, I still control your orgasm if I order you to do this. Even if I’m not present.”

I’ve managed to do that once, so far. I took 50 minutes of tapping my prostate with a “Pure” toy by NJoy. I ejaculated, while limp. It’s an odd sensation. Bear wants me to ejaculate every one to two weeks that way, and so far, I haven’t been able to do that again. I’ve given up in exhaustion after an hour and a half a few times.

I think that ejaculating that way may just reduce the urge to come enough that I won’t have my reptile brain taking over again. That’s why I say he may just let me off the hook after all.


In thinking about all this – the obedience, the disobedience, my constant struggle to turn the latter into the former – I realized that I have two (mostly unconscious) core beliefs that make this task infinitely harder:

“Failure is bad.”
“I am not good enough.”

I’ll sit with that. Be mindful of it, as it were. Disbelieving those statements can only be good, in all areas of life.




This is going to be one of those “cross your legs” posts. Fair warning.

A month ago, I decided it was time. Time to stretch my PA piercing to 2ga. With Bear watching, I took my time, and stopped with the taper about halfway through, when it started to be painful. It freaked Bear out, and stopping there was the right thing to do. I’d try again 3 days or so later.

And then impatience got the better of me (only half a millimeter to go! How bad can it be?) and I tried again 3 hours later, ignored the pain, and pushed that taper through, followed by a heavy 2ga steel horseshoe barbell. Bad idea.

I was in pain for the night. Radiating out to my hips and feet type of pain. The next morning, I was walking funny. Still, I didn’t take the 2ga jewelry out. Surely, this would heal again. Another bad idea.

Two days later, the piercing felt better. I had also learned that 2ga jewelry is way heavier than 4ga, and I need to be careful standing up from the toilet. I bruised my cock head when the jewelry hit the rim. Ouch.

Another day or two later, the pain was back, and it wasn’t getting better. There was an angry red donut of flesh around the piercing hole, what Google tells me is called a “blowout”. I tried going down to 4ga. That lasted less than a day.

Ultimately, I had to step down to 8ga, the size I was first pierced at. I waited three days, during which time the piercing stopped being so angry and was closing up. Then I slipped the 6ga jewelry in, which fit, if barely.

After another three weeks, I carefully stretched back to 4ga. Minor discomfort with that. That was last night, and that’s where I am at now.

Hopefully I didn’t create a lasting problem. Scar tissue doesn’t stretch very well. I will wait another month or two, and then slowly, in stages, stretch to 2ga again.

Why, one might ask, am I doing this to myself? Part of it is functional. I have a large urethral opening. The largest ball diameter available for 4ga easily slips into my urethra, which does not make for sexy times. A 7/16″ ball, which is what came with my 2ga jewelry, still slips in. I’ve ordered a 1/2″ ball, with the hope that it’s big enough to stay outside my cock.

I do like the way 2ga looks. For the thickness of my cock, it’s the right size. Bear has ordered pretty rainbow-hued titanium jewelry in 2ga, with a 7/16″ captive bead. Hopefully the whole “ball can slip in” thing is much less of an issue with a captive bead ring than it is with a curved barbell or horseshoe barbell.

If urethral slippage continues to be a thing to worry about, then I’d have to be on to 0ga. Honestly though, after this next stretch, I think I can be done. I’ve learnt my lessons, and I’m not too keen to go through the stretch to 0ga. Though I will if Bear deems it necessary or desirable. Slowly. Ever so slowly. Not all in one day.

I’m reminded of a saying: “Slow is fast.”



Common ground

So Orlando, and the aftermath. There’s a lot on my mind, and I think I want to speak to religion, and to who was targeted here, and to common ground. Not in that order.

But first: The day I heard about the shooting in Orlando, I didn’t react. “Oh look, 50 or so dead, 50 or so wounded. Another day in America.” And I went on with my day.

It took me days to feel any kind of grief. And that’s because gun violence is so so common in the US. I’m not used to that, and I probably never will be. I grew up in a country with strict gun control, where even a single gun death is a big deal and headlines. Here, I read about two kids of the age or 2 or 4 being shot dead, accidentally, in the space of a month or two. If I weren’t numb, I’d be curled up in a corner.

The shooting is often framed as an act of violence against the LGBT community, and it was that. And, it is important to point out on what specific night the shooter chose to target the club: It was Latino night. And drag queens were about to perform. So this was violence specifically against queer people of color, and trans people, and that does matter. As a white cis gay man, I can be as outraged and hurt as everyone else, and I think I can say “my people were attacked,” and at the same time, this must hit home even harder to people who are non-white and queer, or non-white and trans, or any combination thereof. I’ve been made aware of the “ring theory of comfort,” and I like it. You look at who is how close to a trauma, and you draw rings … the victims, their family, their friends, people like them, people a little less like them, everyone else … and then follow a simple rule: Comfort IN, dump OUT. Makes a lot of sense to me.

In the aftermath of the shooting, my social media started to fill up with gun control arguments, for and against. There’s a lot of copy-pasting of arguments, just so the people who already agree can agree some more, and very little finding of common ground.

So I ran a little experiment. I asked some conservative friends where we do have common ground. This was my list:



The results were heartening. On the gun control issues, as expected, I didn’t get a lot of traction. I also learned that “assault rifles” are a different thing from “assault weapons” and a civilian AR-15 is not, technically, an “assault rifle.” What can I say. I’m not that technical when it comes to guns. I learned that “universal” background checks are a concern because of issues like inheriting a gun, but “expanded” background checks are an easier thing to get consensus on.

And I learned that I had uniform common ground on more government spending for health care, and confronting homophobia, transphobia and “toxic masculinity”. On reflection, maybe I should have asked about islamophobia as well.

And that’s huge. I see these words and acts of violence come directly out of rigid gender roles – the “toxic masculinity” part – which then express themselves as homophobia and transphobia. That unholy stew is made so much worse by the fact that we don’t have a functioning mental health care system.

I’ll take it. I’ll build consensus where I can, and keep discussing this with my pro-gun friends.

Another thing I’m learning is: The gun control issue is, on a personal level, so intractable because it is not about statistics and rational argument. It’s about emotion, and that emotion is fear. We both want the same thing: Security for ourselves and our families. And we both think of ourselves the same way: I’m the good guy here. Just that we have diametrically opposite ideas of how to provide that security. My pro-gun friends think guns provide that security, I think guns jeopardize that security and make it more likely to get hurt. I got statistics on my side, I do think, but that doesn’t address the emotional component.

So I’ll find common ground there too, just by reminding them that we ultimately want the same thing, and we both think we’re doing the right thing.

That said, I’ll still do my utmost to put my voice behind more gun control, and I like Mr. Takei’s idea of using the existing gay rights organizations to push it through. I really do think the facts and statistics support my position.

Lastly, I’ll come to religion. Thumper is railing against religion in the wake of Orlando. And I get it. I really do. I get the anger and the frustration. I’m about as godless as you can get, myself.

I also know that religion has good components: It supplies a sense of transcendence, of being part of something bigger than ourselves, and a social network. And, frankly, atheists and humanists plain suck at providing anything of the sort. The church of the flying spaghetti monster is trying, and I applaud them for it.

I can reasonably be described as a secular humanist, and I am a-theist by definition (“not a theist”, I don’t believe in anything supernatural), but I am not anti-theist. Let me repeat that: I’m not anti-religion in the slightest. I’m anti-violence, and for inclusion and freedom of expressing one’s unique humanity.

That human need for feeling part of a greater whole isn’t going away, and we have to figure out how to supply that without all the destructive and hateful baggage.

Oh and also, our brains like to manufacture religion. It’s true. Evolution is playing a joke on us. Go watch this, it’s truly fascinating science.


Tumblr response: What’s with this chastity thing?

Tumblr served up text amidst the usual smut, and because that text is about chastity, I am interested and wanted to respond. Tumblr also really doesn’t do responses very well, so I’ll respond here.

bound-indulgence muses on what the point of chastity might be, and talks about his own preferences to leave subs out of a chastity cage. And then he wonders whether he’s alone with that. Go read that and come back.

First off: You’re most certainly not alone. Bear dislikes chastity cages completely. So I don’t ever wear one. We don’t even own one.

He loves denial, though. He wants me coming only with his permission (which I have a spotty record of), and he usually allows an orgasm anywhere between 6 weeks and  4 months apart, though it’s been much shorter, too. He wants to be unpredictable.

If I ever forced his hand to sticking me in a cage, Bear’d be miserable – though less miserable than if I came without permission all the time. I want him happy, not miserable. Learning how to obey him in this has been a very fulfilling journey that also has applications in other aspects of my life. I may blog about that in a bit more depth, separately.

I’ll go and quote some of bound-indulgence’s post and reply directly

To me, pictures of a cock locked up in some cheesy looking plastic device, is a turn off.

I think you’ll find complete agreement with that even with people who do use chastity devices a lot. Cheesy plastic devices are terrible. They pinch, they look like shite, they break. They’re cheap. So they’re a decent option to let someone figure out whether chastity is for them, before they spring for the Lexus or custom-built BMW: Bespoke metal devices made of steel or titanium.

Two good examples of craftsmen/artists who create these are Steelworxx in Germany and Steelwerks in Canada. The former is the Lexus, the latter is the custom BMW. Steelwerks have suggestions for typical devices on their site, and really, anything goes. You can get something completely custom that fits like a glove.

Thumper has blogged a ton about different kinds of devices, so that’d be the first stop for geeking out about chastity devices.

Small penises don’t turn me on

Completely valid, and I’m with you. Some love small dicks, others love big dicks. Different strokes for different folks.

chastity may shrink the penis

Experience says it really doesn’t. See Thumper again, he’s been doing this for years and isn’t sized any differently than he was. It can leave permanent marks or leave semi-permanent indentations.
The psychological impact is profound, and maybe that’s what you’re keying on with “the penis shrinks.” It can sure seem that way.

He should earn orgasms, but I think its hot when he’s finally allowed to cum.

Well, I’d have to agree, only because I don’t want to never come again :). And Bear certainly agrees. When that magical point in time called “finally” arrives really depends on the whims of the Dom, and I think it also depends on what the actual living situation looks like. Is this a “see each other and have a session” kind of deal, or is it a “live together” kind of deal? I think the amount of time to “finally” will vary greatly depending on the relationship between Dom and sub. And of course the Dom’s wishes.

You want your sub to earn an orgasm and if he’s done that, let him come during the session: More power to you!

Bear wants my orgasm to be something that he decides upon at a whim, that I cannot earn or predict. Also completely valid.

There are as many variations to this game as there are people. Some don’t want anything to do with denial, others want periods of hours, or maybe days, yet others prefer a few weeks, yet others months, and some want to go a year or years. There’s no wrong answer here, only what gets everyone involved off – figuratively speaking for the sub that is :),

My last thought is one I’ve taken from Tom and quoted a few times on here already: Chastity with device and denial without device are completely different kinks. Device chastity is about control, or the lack thereof for the sub; denial without device is about obedience. Control in that case is with the sub, not the Dom. The desire to obey, and to follow through on that, can be a powerful expression of devotion.




Jewelry malfunction

I do like the Industrial Strength steel jewelry. It’s precision-machined and clean. It turns out, you can overdo precision machining with cock jewelry. While skiing, I lost one of the balls to my horseshoe barbell.

I had warning this might happen. One night, when we had friends over, one of them picked up that ball from the floor and said “I just found this, what is it?” Oh boy. I told him thanks, and I’d need a minute, and disappeared into the bathroom.

After that I looked at Loctite Purple, but didn’t use it because after screwing the ball on as tight as it would go with hand strength, it didn’t budge for a month or so.

Until I went skiing. The extra friction must have screwed it right off. I ordered a replacement ball and will use Loctite this time.

Somehow the words “Loctite Purple” in combination with cock jewelry is a bit scary, but I’ll trust that “low strength” means exactly that.



Feel the Bern

Still on our road trip, while in an AirBnB in southern CA up on a hill with an amazing view, after I had made and served breakfast, Bear had me put on the cock and ball leather harness I so like, and some see-through panties. Then he snapped some pictures, while fondling me.

When he was done with picture taking, and I was still standing in the middle of the room, he came back with a tube of masturbation cream in his hand. I liked where this seemed to be going. He had some cream in his right hand, and he hugged me with one arm while smearing it over my balls with the other. That was a little odd, he doesn’t usually go for the balls, but I didn’t think anything of it.

Then the smell hit me. Not masturbation creme. Ben Gay. The tube had just been there to throw me off.

At first, there was pleasant warmth, then heat. I liked that a lot so far. Happy moans. And then the pain started. My balls, already stretched by the leather harness, turned an angry red. Pained moans.

Then Bear pushed me down onto my knees and told me to suck his cock. I didn’t need to be told twice. I gave him pleasure the best way I know how with my lips, tongue and hands, all the while very aware of my pained, burning balls and my straining cock.

Halfway through, Bear asks me how I’d like to make him come: By masturbating him, or by sucking him off?

I thought about it for a second and came off his cock long enough to say: “I don’t know that I can answer that, Sir.”

Which was the truth. I knew that if I masturbated him, he’d like it a lot, and I’d get a chance of being teased myself. And if I sucked him off, he’d like that a lot, and my cock would probably not get any further attention. And, kneeling in front of him sucking him off felt very right.

“Okay,” Bear said. “I’ll decide when I’m closer.”

Then he started fucking my mouth, holding my head with his hands. When I’d gag, he would slow down long enough for the reflex to pass, then resume his pace. When he came, it was deep in my throat, and he pulled my face into his crotch, ignoring the gag reflex he was triggering.

I thanked him, and when he moved away, stood up again. Truth be told, I was hoping that masturbation cream would see some use yet after all. My balls had settled down a bit and were still aching and red, but no longer intensely painful. Bear was moving around the room continuing his morning routine. After a minute or so, he looked over, saw me standing there, and said “you can get dressed again.”

“Yes, Sir,” I said, looked at the untouched puddle of pre in my slit with longing, and took off the cock and ball harness and got dressed.

This scene was exciting and painful and uncomfortable while it happened, and gets hotter every time I think back on it. Bear tells me he enjoyed causing me discomfort, and he will use Ben Gay on my balls again. I can hardly wait.


As for the subject of this post: It was right there! I had to!