Forcibly depriving orgasm of pleasure

My name is Tim, and I'm a 32-year-old technician.

After carefully reading several articles about chastity belts and forced orgasm deprivation on this site and others, I felt it necessary to write about my own experience in this area.

I originally thought this topic would be widely discussed, but it seems to have been ignored except on a few well-known sites.

For years, I've enjoyed the power play and forced orgasm deprivation, and I've found it fundamentally different from other forms of SM. Its essence lies in deliberately depriving another person of their normal physical needs (and indulging in it), which, compared to other sexual activities, has a more power-driven feel.

I think a typical question that still needs to be explored on this topic is the power inherent in most couples' sexual desires.

Women don't understand the psychological torment a man experiences if he is forcibly deprived of orgasm in some way (I know this hasn't been included in the sociology of sex), and most men haven't experienced the feeling of losing the right to orgasm.

Toilet masturbation is a habit for many men; they can satisfy themselves so easily. For years, this activity has been my morning routine: toilet, shower, masturbate, get dressed.

Masturbation and intercourse are completely different. The stimulation is different, the feeling is different, the motivation is different.

Usually, when my wife wants to have sex with me, after a lazy shower, with my limp organ (or so she thinks), I still enjoy my morning masturbation.

On the other hand, women tend to treat it like a sex package. I've corresponded with some women, which inspired me to publish a short story (attached below). They told me that the process can last up to an hour, involving things like small mirrors, lotions, sex toys, and so on.

Women want to know more about how men react when forced to abstain from sex, and men are curious about what it feels like to be forced to abstain, but they never have the right or the inclination to try it. So, forced abstinence only happens to a few individuals.

As the saying goes, you don't know what's precious until you lose it; a chastity belt will make you understand the truth of this statement. I never imagined that this torturous experience would change my temper, attitude, and behavior.

For readers who have tried to quit smoking, I can use the physical sensation of craving a cigarette as a metaphor for the torment of forced abstinence, but the latter is much more intense and unbearable. Deprived of the right to orgasm, you suffer unbearable torment. The urge to desire is relentless, washing over you in waves. Even more unbearable is the chain reaction that follows. Your body's instinct causes an erection, an uncontrollable urge that keeps you in an erection state for extended periods. You involuntarily try to reach orgasm through sexual fantasies, but this only intensifies your burning desire.

While wearing the chastity belt, I could maintain an erection for over three hours, usually at night. During this time, I would sweat, squeeze the chastity belt against the mattress, hoping for sufficient friction to release the burning desire, tossing and turning until I was exhausted and fell asleep. My wife would lie beside me, either enjoying my performance or irritably scolding me, threatening to move downstairs to sleep if I continued.

In this enlightened era, it's common to see women wearing only enough clothing to make a few handkerchiefs, sometimes even transparent. As men, we've developed an immune system to such sensual beauty, taking it for granted, unlike men of the past who would get excited at the sight of a woman's bare ankles.

But for a man wearing a chastity belt, things are different. I'd be stunned by a glimpse of thigh peeking through a skirt. The sight of a tight-fitting top from afar could excite me, a touch of allure could quicken my breath, leaving a lasting impression each time.

I'd imagine sleeping with this girl, or some other form of intimacy. I was so easily aroused by the sight of a woman with a gentle demeanor. The chastity belt's controlling effect made me subconsciously stop thinking further, stopping there.

Another interesting aspect. My combative nature before being chastity-bound was completely changed by it.

I'm not referring to physical assault, because I'm not a violent person in thought or action. I'm referring to being unyielding, arrogant, difficult to get along with, and stubborn. Almost instantly, my intense sexual desire overwhelmed everything, like the behavioral change of a neutered dog. I suddenly became more tolerant and kind, and some small things that I used to dislike suddenly seemed to be tolerable. At least, this was very enlightening for experimental psychology.

Without any encouragement, I suddenly became more careful and steady, which had a beneficial impact on all aspects of my life. You might not believe it, but my enthusiasm was like a fire.

Perhaps (I'm not a psychologist) that there is a primal, instinctive transference function in all of our minds.

Perhaps we have never realized that we see all women as potential spoils and all men as sexual threats.

With our own ability to transfer sexual interest, these threats will cease to exist, and perhaps it can eventually be achieved that male and female sex organs can be freed from the innate, primal, instinctive control of sexual desire.

All the feelings and emotions are difficult to express clearly with a limited vocabulary. In actual experience, my feelings and emotions were much more complex and rich, and I cannot express them all. I hope to convey some of my experiences in this article.

I hope to explain to everyone that the significance of a chastity belt in a person's life is not simply about sex (although it originates from sex).

This isn't a story of bondage and whipping (though we tried those), nor is it a technical guide to chastity belts; there are plenty of articles on that topic.

I also want to point out that I was never asked to wear women's clothing, lent to my wife's friends, or forced to participate in same-sex activities.

Incidentally, there are countless articles online dealing with such themes.

****************************************************** My story begins online.

The internet is truly an amazing (and sometimes dangerous) tool, allowing you to gather a vast amount of information you want, and to learn new things you're interested in that you didn't know before. Through the internet, I learned a great deal of knowledge, experience, and insights from like-minded people, not just about sex. Initially, we experimented with handcuffs and sex toys, and the text and images constantly gave me new fantasies. After a while, things calmed down, and seemingly naturally, I began greedily searching for websites related to power games and domination.

I kept this a secret from my wife. Whenever she got close, I would quickly click on other web pages to prevent her from discovering my secret.

A pragmatic man, always willing to accept a challenge, I decided to try making a sturdy chastity belt in my workshop. I used almost every tool imaginable, and spent countless hours working overtime hammering, shaping, and experimenting. I finally finished this chastity belt, and I feel it's a success.

Remember, my focused nature compels me to create a top-notch chastity belt, and it forces me to test its safety, which necessitates choosing the most indestructible materials possible. Finally, the finished product is complete. It's made of low-carbon steel with a plastic coating to prevent skin irritation. I took the time to carefully inspect it, doing everything possible to ensure that once locked, it cannot be removed in any way (I mean removed, not opened with a key).

I still believe (though I've never tried) that the only way to remove it is to cut it with an angle grinder; this operation is extremely dangerous and would cause unavoidable serious injury to the wearer. The lock is embedded, and the steel band is close to the skin; the high temperature during cutting would inevitably damage the skin. I might be able to break it with a file, but the time required would be unpredictable.

Aside from its weight, the device is relatively comfortable; my short trial runs proved it to be easy to wear and conceal. The specially designed flushing hole allows you to use a shower hose to rinse the inside, maintaining hygiene.

It's slightly inconvenient to urinate; you have to squat down. Aside from that, I think it's a rather ingenious design.

What's the next step? Given our relationship, I can't tell her directly. I have to let her gradually understand my thoughts.

My wife is computer illiterate and doesn't know how to use a computer, but she still enjoys reading the interesting emails I print out. One evening, after drinking some wine, I printed out some such emails for her to read. One of them was from the Altairboy website. It was written by a woman who said that her husband had become a different person after he put on a chastity belt—more attentive and polite, very caring and considerate in the bedroom.

I noticed her blushing as she read the letter. I've been satisfying my wife orally for a long time, so I knew this letter would grab her attention.

She didn't mention the letter to me, nor did I see any change in her. A few days later, I overheard her discussing it with her friends. I couldn't hear the gist of the conversation, but the important thing was that she remembered it and had already discussed it with her friends.

The topic came up again weeks later, on an unusual bar night, when she accused me of flirting with the women in the bar. I must admit, she was absolutely right; I had spent most of the time staring at the blonde girls sitting next to me. Men are all like that, some just hide it better. But, of course, I almost involuntarily denied it.

"I should get you a chastity belt," she muttered angrily.

Seizing the opportunity, I told her that I had already made the chastity belt while I was making whips and other toys (all our tools of enslavement were handmade). She just smiled: "I'll put it on you now!" She started to joke, no longer angry. When

we got home, I showed her the chastity belt. She shook her head suspiciously and glanced at it, almost as if reluctant to touch it. She turned away, a little drunk. I placed the chastity belt on the side of the bed. Somewhat disappointed, she didn't ask me to demonstrate it myself.

Time seemed to stand still. I began to feel uneasy. My wife had never changed her mind before, and this time it made me very suspicious.

Around 2 a.m., she woke me and gently caressed me. "Maybe you should try it, darling," she whispered in my ear.

I opened my eyes excitedly, a little puzzled by her sudden, inexplicable enthusiasm. I put on the chastity belt as she asked, boasting about its design and explaining how I had welded it in.

After inserting my half-erect penis, I snapped the lock and pulled out the key.

"Look," I exclaimed childishly, "it's impossible to do anything anymore."

She raised her eyebrows in disbelief. I explained to her how difficult it was to remove it. She seemed satisfied with my explanation; she tossed the key into the bedside drawer and closed it. She reached out and placed her hand on my inner thigh, close to the chastity belt.

Normally, her hand on my inner thigh wouldn't have much of a stimulating effect (our sex life had greatly diminished over the years), but in this situation, I found myself hard within seconds, at least filling the space of the chastity belt.

Despite the alcohol, I couldn't fall asleep for a long time. I only relaxed a little after she removed her hand. I tried to distract myself by thinking about other things to lessen the excitement of virginity.

I remained erect for almost an hour. Enduring the throbbing agony, I finally managed to doze off, but the novelty made it impossible to sleep soundly.

When I woke up the next morning, I was still stiffly erect. I immediately realized my predicament and tried to ask my wife to unlock the door, only to find she was out. I searched for a long time but couldn't find the key. My penis was still throbbing in its iron cage. Reluctantly, I gave up looking for the key, took a shower, and began to doubt the rationality of my ridiculous idea.

Now it seems this was just another proof of how much we men value frequent and easily attainable orgasms. I spent weeks preparing, but once aroused, all I could think about was those 30 seconds of masturbation.

She returned several hours later, beaming. She explained that she had entrusted the key to a friend for indefinite safekeeping. I was shocked and immediately demanded she retrieve the keys.

Like an addict deprived of their drug, my penis was burning, and I took almost every possible measure to alleviate the torment. Furthermore, my testicles had begun to ache, causing a dull ache in my lower back, so I tried to demand the keys in an unyielding tone. But this didn't change her mind.

For almost two years, our sex life had consisted of twice a week, two minutes each time. No foreplay, no flirting. We (or perhaps I should say I) had become accustomed to this; I was satisfied every time, but never her. She had mentioned this taboo topic before, but never so explicitly. Now, she was happy to bring it up clearly; she wanted me to know what it felt like to not get what you wanted.

It was that simple.

I didn't believe she had never received the satisfaction she craved (just as I craved it now), but after experiencing the torment of desire myself, I felt waves of guilt. If her past torment had been even a tenth of what I was experiencing now, I would easily consider her worthy of sympathy.

My reasoning had no effect on my situation. She was determined and unmoved.

This was the beginning of my wearing a chastity belt.

According to her decision, I entered a period of sexual deprivation (she said she hadn't decided how long she wanted me to "suffer").

I couldn't be angry with her. It was my idea in the first place, and she had every reason to continue tormenting me. Besides, I was sexually aroused and not easily angered. She announced that she would only give me very few orgasms for two years, and the only way would be for her to masturbate me. Usually

, a man's sexual urges will put him in an uncontrollable state of excitement, but after the moment of ejaculation, his eyelids start to droop. An honest man will tell you that ejaculating and then sleeping is his satisfaction.

I haven't had that right for seven days, and now, the last thing I want is to sleep.

I started to have some unprecedented feelings and thoughts, feelings that are hard to describe, but I will try my best to write them down.

I was filled with sexual urges. Even though the time I was locked up was short, when it became unbearable, I wanted to pull my glans off to relieve the torment, and if she allowed me to release, I would immediately think only of satisfying myself as always. However, this possibility was unlikely to occur.

The passion of sexual urges, like a overflowing river, spread uncontrollably throughout my body. Although my body didn't experience pleasure, but rather intensified the torment, I found myself resorting to sexual methods I had long abandoned, methods I found somewhat annoying and repulsive, to please my wife.

Perhaps, part of the reason I wanted her to be satisfied was to prove my ability as a man, to see her weary panting, which gave me a sense of victory.

Perhaps I thought satisfying her this way was proof of my sexual prowess, that even without actual penetration, we could still have a satisfying sex life. In any case, that was one aspect.

Perhaps my view was that at least one of us should fully enjoy orgasm, even if it wasn't me.

I couldn't be sure if this was true; perhaps, the entirety of my inability to resist this abnormal desire was simply to maximize my wife's satisfaction through my own submission.

The weekend was relaxing and enjoyable for my wife. As for me, I was almost constantly restless, trying to find something to do in the house to distract myself and slightly reduce the almost constant, uncontrollable lust.

Before going to bed, we drank two bottles of wine together, and at least in that respect, I would say my wife is romantic and passionate.

She pressed herself against me, her legs draped over my buttocks, her hands on my shoulders, her hair falling across my face.

She began grinding her pubic bone against my chastity belt, first gently, then gradually increasing the pressure, and finally slamming it against me violently.

Targeting my weaknesses, she had a clear advantage over me; without hesitation, she slid over my body, using her knees to block my upper arms, her hands gripping the headboard. Then, she quickly pressed her lips to mine, immediately slid her wet, hot vulva against my lips.

To be honest, I've always found this behavior repulsive. I've always hated that it's a place to urinate, and not long after we established our exciting relationship, I agreed to "treat" her this way.

At this moment, the matter of urinating was completely forgotten. All I could think about was satisfying her.

I skillfully slid my tongue, licking her swollen labia with almost frenzied passion. Her scent filled my nostrils, and my face was covered in the fluid flowing from her vulva. I no longer found it disgusting; it was proof of my ability, a man's ability, the ability to satisfy his wife.

With the final thrust, a groan escaped her throat, her thighs clamped around my ear, she had reached orgasm, her body trembling with wonderful sensation. I breathed heavily, she climbed off me, her face flushed from the orgasm, her breasts high beneath her thin t-shirt.

She lay back down, nestled beside me, one leg draped over my thigh, her arm on my chest, her face buried in my neck. Psychologically, I felt better.

My body was exhausted, aching all over. But blood still throbbed in my penis, my testicles swollen, waves of ecstasy washing over me.

Hoping she might unlock the door for me was pointless; I knew she didn't have the key. It was shrewd of her to give the key to a third party, to prevent her from unlocking it for me when she couldn't resist sexual arousal.

As soon as my breathing calmed, the torment in my lower body prompted me to rack my brains for a way to release sexual tension.

She slightly raised her head, smiling at my troubled face.

"You're so cute, darling," she whispered, kissing my neck.

"Maybe tomorrow you can..."

I stammered in response. How could I phrase it to get her to agree?

"No chance!" she said, before I could finish.

"You'll give me two orgasms a week like this for two years..." she calculated. "Then I can enjoy 207 orgasms," she laughed, turning over and ignoring my suffering.

"Oh, yeah! That's great," she added, completely disregarding my physical and mental torment.

From then on, life began to establish a new routine. In almost every aspect, including sex and everything else, the scales of fate clearly tipped in her favor.

She insisted on receiving oral sex from me at least once a day to satisfy her. Most of the time, her first action in the morning was to gently, but forcefully, pull my head down to her crotch, sleepily moaning without restraint, with a satisfied smile, her fingers running through the hair behind my head, enjoying my tongue servicing her vagina.

I've practically become an expert now, perfectly mastering the techniques to arouse her—how to gently flick her clitoris with my tongue to maximize her pleasure, her favorite way to wiggle my tongue around her entrance, and so on.

She doesn't always need an orgasm; most of the time, when she's satisfied, she pushes my head to one side, squeezes my hand between her legs, and falls asleep with a contented smile. However, when she pulls my head back, she won't stop until she reaches orgasm.

She's started caring only about her own orgasms, just as I used to care only about mine, taking what she wants without regard for my feelings.

She's started enjoying bringing me close to ejaculation again (even though I know it's difficult for her to control); I feel I have no choice, and I see yielding to her desires as my new obligation.

I've started noticing her blue eyes, her hair cascading over her bare shoulders, her breasts bouncing as she rides on my face—everything I'd previously neglected has regained its attention.

I love everything she says; it excites me, makes me want to caress her, touch her, and kiss her body.

Although she became the sole master of our (or perhaps I should say her) sex life, I participated willingly and didn't object. My tongue licked her nipples, as if I were reveling in creating pleasure for her; my only joy was making her happy.

Two weeks later, I decided to take leave early. I felt unable to concentrate on work. Instead of adapting to my situation, my anger and disappointment intensified. Despite my best efforts, the burning desire within me prevented me from focusing on anything else.

I didn't believe she could understand the torment I was enduring. Many times, she openly and cruelly mocked my pain, easily ignoring my suffering, and often saying that she had endured it all for years.

"I've learned to face it, so you can too,"

she said explicitly more than once. Before wearing the chastity belt, I rarely used my genitals, and she had discerned that if I stopped using my penis, I would prefer to continue using my mouth.

Several times, in front of her friends, she subtly hinted at my chastity belt. Although others couldn't understand, it was enough to make me blush, lose my balance, and silently curse her for openly mocking me.

According to the basic rules of the game, I could ask her how long she planned to continue tormenting me. Sometimes she would act as if she didn't hear me and immediately change the subject. Sometimes she would say her friend had misplaced the key. Sometimes she would simply be frank and say she had no intention of letting me go; since the chastity belt, her life had improved considerably.

I explained that to allow her to enjoy this newfound satisfaction, I was forced to endure physical and mental torment every day. She shrugged, indifferent.

I began to feel used, humiliated, and ashamed. I truly lost my confidence.

I started doing most of the housework, partly to distract myself, and partly to please her. She held the key to my salvation, and I automatically tried to keep her happy.

I realized my weakness: my passion lay in pleasing her. She expanded her sexual approach to a direct climax, sometimes finding pleasure in prolonging the ritualistic act, kissing me, slipping her tongue into my mouth, gently biting my earlobe, sucking my nipples until I almost cried out in pain. Then she would turn and kiss my feet, then my thighs, bringing one side of her buttocks close to my face. Previously, when we did 69, I would ejaculate in her mouth before she even became aroused. This time, she wouldn't stop kissing my thighs, until she moaned with pleasure and pressed her buttocks against my face, rubbing them against my face while scratching my thighs with her sharp nails, whispering commands for me to force my tongue into her round, folded anus until dewdrops clung to her labia, before pressing her warm, soft vulva against my obedient lips.

At this point, because of the clear pre-ejaculate fluid, I would leave noticeable stains on the bed. My penis inside the tube would twitch visibly, and the fluid would drip from the glans through the urethral opening of the chastity belt onto the sheets.

Now, more than two months have passed, and she shows no sign of relenting. My passion lies in pleasing her; it's my destiny. In any case, I've secured my place in the game.

During my research on chastity, I learned that abstaining from ejaculation for three consecutive months is dangerous. I showed her this report, my heart pounding; I didn't know if she would let me off the hook.

She was unwilling to relent, but also didn't want to gamble with my health, so she promised to consider it. I argued for days to no avail; she reveled in her power and showed no sign of backing down. In fact, quite the opposite, I'm sure she's trying to unleash this newly discovered source of pleasure even more intensely before it's gone.

One night, she pressed my face down six times, setting a record. To help her reach orgasm, I thrust my tongue deeper, so much so that the next morning, my tongue was unbearably sore. Therefore, by the second night, my pain was almost catastrophic.

It was an unforgettable night; she was exceptionally aroused, caressing around my chastity belt until I felt I was about to ejaculate. She grew increasingly excited, her nipples brushing against my lower abdomen, her vulva swaying provocatively before me. Tiny dewdrops appeared on her labia, slowly gathering, sticky around her opening, pubic hair now in fine strands, the dewdrops trickling down her thighs.

I had never been so excited. She scratched my thighs with her nails, making me shake my head; her sensual teasing made me groan softly. The pain in my testicles became increasingly unbearable, suddenly a warm gush spurted from inside the chastity belt, and I involuntarily pushed her away. The intensifying pain transferred to my throbbing penis, like a hot needle piercing it. The intense throbbing further exacerbated the pain.

Moaning and whimpering, I knew what had happened. She retaliated by biting my thigh, her teeth digging deep into my flesh. Instantly, all my senses shifted to where she was biting.

I screamed, but she pressed her labia tightly against my open mouth, silencing my shout.

After a while, silence fell. I lay back, my stiff body relaxing, the only remaining sensation being the throbbing pain in my legs.

I sat up, nudging her beside me, confused, dizzy, and feeling nauseous.

"I...I...I think something happened," I stammered.

She turned around and knelt between my outstretched legs, smiling.

"You came, darling," she told me, dabbing at the sticky discharge from the chastity belt with her fingertip.

"But I didn't expect..."

"Shameless—" she drawled, still smiling.

"Aren't we enjoying our orgasm?" she continued sarcastically, playing with my semen on her fingers.

"It hurts, you bit my leg, I didn't expect this, this isn't..." My eyes stung, and tears of humiliation welled up uncontrollably.

It was real. I never imagined that the orgasm I had been waiting for for two months would arrive and I wouldn't experience it. The pain of the thick semen gushing from my penis, coupled with the pain of her timely bite, meant that I didn't feel any orgasm at all.

There was a time when my penis throbbed with vitality, and the hot semen shot into her mouth like a sudden awakening, a powerful pleasure instantly enveloping my entire body. She would stroke my swollen testicles, squeeze the last drop of semen from my magnificent penis with her hand, lick the salty residue from the glans, and swallow the last few drops with a smile. All of that was in the past; only endless torment awaited me.

Although the physical torment had eased somewhat, the humiliation and helplessness remained the same, and the mental anguish was as intense as ever.

"Anyway, darling, it's a good thing you came," she whispered softly.

I looked up and saw genuine joy on her face.

"Let's talk about removing your chastity belt at least two or three months from now."

[The End]

URL 1:http://localhost:909/htmlBlog/5174.html

URL 2:/Blog.aspx?id=5174&aspx=1

Previous Page : The Wife's Final Journey

Next Page : Wife's affair story

增加

comment Open a new window to view comments

Contact Information

Forcibly depriving orgasm of pleasure

comment Open a new window to view comments