Chastity, Tease, and Ballbusting mp3

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Grand Slam Call

I was going to call it a "Home Run Call" because I identified at least four fetishes, but then I realized how many fetishes I was grouping together into a cuckolding fetish: cuckolding super-fetish = being cuckolded + big black cock + small penis humiliation + forced bisexuality + cream pie.

So then I asked myself: what number would make a Grand Slam Call? Sure, it puts four runs on the board, but there are 10 bases covered in a grand slam by the time all four runners make it home, right (4+3+2+1)?

So I set out to try to limit the fetishes on this call to only 10, if I separated them out properly. Turns out, it was easy.

We're married, and:

1. I have taken a lover "against his will" (cuckolding),
2. because he has a small dick (small penis humiliation),
3. and my lover is a well-hung African-American (big black cock, a.k.a. BBC),
4. and I "force" him to help get my lover hard by sucking him ("forced" bisexuality),
5. and to clean up after my lover comes inside me by licking his cum out of me (cream pie),
6. although not all of the cum was lapped up, because I get knocked up (impregnation),
7. so for nine months, I let him worship my growing tummy (pregnancy),
8. and my growing ass (ass worship),
9. and suck on my breasts as they got ready (lactation),
10. but I never once let him fuck me (tease and denial).

It's going, going, GONE! And that, ladies, and gentlemen, is a bona fide Grand Slam Call! History in the making!

It seems like it would have seemed like a crowded, rushed, scattered call, right? And yet, no, instead, it was kind of... ummm... wow, do I sound too insane if I say it was mostly just sweet?

Memory and Notes and Meds

Don't you trust me?

I wrote about how much I remembered vs how much I wrote in this blog post (Memory and Notes), but when I went on my horse tranquilizers mid-May (2.5 months already?), I wondered what the effect would be on my memory.

The other day I had a delightful call from a gent who has been keeping up with my blog (awwww, thank you!), and left me this feedback - I blame the typos on the ludicrously intense session he had just had with me:

"Im so glad your feeling better and I'm so so glad I got to talk to you. I would beg for you anytime if the day. Thank you again"

(side note: I shamelessly stole the idea to incorporate feedback into blog posts from Kiwi Candy, who I briefly mentored, but who now blows me out of the water and does pretty much everything better than I do. So out of mock petty jealousy over her success, now I'm stealing her good ideas. Good thing she thinks I'm cute, and I've shared at least seven callers with her, or she might get mad.)

I found with him, as I have been finding with callers lately, that my memory of past calls seems unaffected. Sure, I get a helpful boost from a specific in a note if I have one, like "a sensual hand job can beat penetration," which can give me lovely, naughty, teasing, ideas with just a slight twist of my wrist near the top of the stroke... oh wait, where was I? Oh right.

Even if I don't have great notes, or if I'm in a different room than my computer, as long as there was a connection, even if it's been six months or more, I can often remember plenty.

Examples: The guy who started the conversation wanting to be exposed? By his voice, I remembered how big that cock was, the first one he ever sucked, in a car in a parking lot just after the sun had set, even though I'd never written that down. The guy with the thick mob-underling accent who wanted to be told how to masturbate? I remembered to ask him if he had his vibrating egg and nipple clamps, which was in my notes, but my computer was rebooting when he called, so they were inaccessible.

And the guy above who left me that sweet feedback? I remembered that he liked his sensuality mixed with a splash of domination, so, armed with my new, deeper understanding of tease and long-term denial, I let all kinds of torturous thoughts plague him before he found out whether or not I would ever finish my countdown from 10 to... that magic number he was dying to hear, but not sure he'd get to...

Tease and Long-Term Denial

I have a caller who has gotten me interested in a concept with many facets and many names: one piece is male chastity / male orgasm denial / tease and denial; a second piece is sack tapping / ball torture; a third piece is small penis humiliation.

Whew. It's a lot to take in.

Thankfully, he's a patient teacher. In fact, our conversations would frequently seem theoretical to an outsider: we would seem like two people rationally and calmly discussing the merits of a man not having an orgasm for days on end... weeks on end... months on end... maybe never. And how testicles feel when stretched or pulled or flicked or punched when they are full. And how some women feel that men with less than 7" of cock don't deserve to have full-release orgasms because they are physiologically unequipped to deliver the most satisfying kinds of orgasms to their women.

(Note: that's fantasy talk about a small penis: I've had ridiculous orgasms on tongues and fingers, and many women are incapable of having orgasms merely from penetration, no matter what the size. The reality is: if you want to make me come until I'm a quivering mess begging to be allowed to go to sleep, you can, even if your cock is tiny, doesn't get hard, or is missing altogether. I know there really are size queens who truly disagree, but I ain't one of them.)

Underneath that calm conversation, however, we both know that we are both deliciously turned on by the reality: he will get himself too aroused to hide it anymore, and then he will start begging to be allowed to release. And there, in that moment, for him, according to the rules of the game we play, the answer will always be no.

I owe a huge debt of thanks for the practically educational Male Chastity Blog, by Sarah, a married woman who calls the blog "Adventures of a liberated woman and her male chastity husband". Her well-written, well-reasoned blog posts, newsletters, and her book are all well worth your time if you're interested in a realistic, yet passionate, view into the lifestyle of male orgasm denial.

As Sarah recommended, we discussed the ground rules of our game first, and refined them along the way. The way we currently play is that he has to tell me, calmly and rationally, that he wants to be allowed to have an orgasm within the first 15 minutes of our phone call. Once we are in minute 16 with no agreement that he will climax that night, no matter what happens from them on, I will not allow him to climax.

And if he is allowed to have an orgasm, it will be a ruined orgasm / interrupted orgasm. He doesn't get a fully satisfying, squirting release unless we also negotiate some amount of money to change hands. So far, it's never been allowed. It's been over four months since his last full-release orgasm.

That's the dry version of our rules. The reality is blazingly more sexy once it gets going. Once he starts being irrational and I know he's getting turned on, I let myself start getting turned on... I'll even start masturbating a bit. I can hear his voice catch, his ability to find words fly out the window, and his frustration start to rise. When he starts calling me an evil bitch, I know he's dying to come.

I used to be such a sweet, nice, accommodating girl... who would have thought that after less than a year of phone sex, the thing that would tip me over the edge into a delicious, rippling orgasm would be hearing the ragged voice of a normally excruciatingly rational man begging, "Please, let me come," and my own answer, laughing at him, of, "You'll never come again." I would not have suspected how aroused that would make me.

After I climax, when he's still out of his mind with raging hormones, I tell him how good it feels to have that release, how satisfied I feel, how delicious it was. He usually tells me to go fuck myself, clarified with "I don't mean that as a negative"...

But he doesn't come. And he keeps calling back for more.

That's what lets me know that Sarah is right: he wants release, but he craves denial. Why? I dunno. I really don't get it at all. I don't understand what he gets from it. But I know it's working for both of us.

At this point, it's been 14 weeks and 2 days since he had his last ruined orgasm, and we don't have a date in mind for his next one. I feel a bit like a vampire, feeding off his sexual energy, fueling his flames, to get his heart pumping, so I can taste him, just a bit richer each time. Mmmmm. Deeeeeelicious.