It’s been a year, just about. A year since we had a long talk and brought D/s ((I’ll refrain from explaining what that term means. Go google it if it’s unfamiliar.)) 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 bound ((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. :))), 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.