Journals and blogs discussion

“You’re my boy.”\n”I’m your good boy… Even if it’s a struggle to be good.”\n“Oh… The Infinite Struggle”\nI swallowed as her words hung in the air\n“… infinite? …”\n“Yes, you need to be good forever.”\nMy mind reeled, and so I held her close. For protection. I hid my nose in her soft breasts blushing hard, and felt overwhelmed.\n(A real conversation from just yesterday morning)

**Being good** By the way, being good means adhering to her rules against self-pleasure, absent minded fondling, gripping my throbbing and dripping bits, playing with my ass, or any sort of such decadence alone and without permission. She told me that this strict masturbation denial keeps me juicy and tasty. She related me to a nice thick juicy piece of meat, or a sweet luscious ripe fruit, depending on her mood. I’m her snack. Her amuse bouche. Her prey. If I went back on my word and started masturbating to porn, if get complicated ideas in my head. If I touched myseld endlessly I would be less melty and not swoon gratefully for her touch. If I flattened and emptied my brain with an orgasm myseld, I would become less enthralled and disinterested. She wants me this way. She prefers me this way. She praises me for being so good and tasty. She likes me so healthy and dripping. She told me today I should enjoy being allowed to fondle my nipples while I am still allowed. It doesn’t make being denied all pleasurable touching below the waist any easier. If I start getting pure above the waist nipplegasms, then those will be off limits. It’s something she’d love to see… so I need to cherish this freedom within the confines of her all embracing control. Heck, if I ever figure out a hands free mental orgasm, that would be against the rules as well, I believe. She’d love to see it and take great pride in that. (She was tickled by my purely mental ruined orgasm as I spilled over suddenly after she simply told me I needed to wait to cum until our upcoming vacation.) She understands what’s important. My submission is to her and her word, not a physical object. Her praise layers on protective blankets. The more I am called a good and tasty bunny, the more I want to be exactly that. Even if it’s incredible difficult. The struggle makes me wriggle and writhe, and that gets her aroused and salivating over me. It’s a “virtuous” cycle and we’re slowly nestling further down this rabbit hole. I liked my little vignette in “infinite struggle” from yesterday. I just wanted to glow about her explicitly tying being “good” to following her no self-pleasure or touching rule.

**Infinite struggle** Today marks two years since she took complete and total ownership of all my pleasure. I only offered stroking and she upped the ante. It’s been recent that she actually told me “no, not indefinitely. Forever.” and “There’s no backing out. You’re mine.” She tell me my “frustration is tasty” and she loves me this way. She says my struggle will be infinite. I’m her squirmy, juicy, wriggly prey. I’m her nice sweet little boy. She’s not letting go. She explicitly spelled out that to be a “good boy” I must honor my no touching and no self pleasure rules. It’s “all or nothing” now. She may let me have a period with a free hand, just to remind me what I gave up for her. Maybe someday I’ll have a full orgasm from her lips and tongue again. It’s been over two years now. She taunted me by having me watch her as she perfectly ruined my orgasm with her lips and tongue. Her lips were gentle. I hadn’t felt them on my glans in forever. It felt muted to me. The scene was as good as any POV ruined orgasm porn video I’ve ever seen. Of course I was living it. But she’s a natural. She gave me a tremendously long hang time and I could feel it slowly rising up. I didn’t even twitch and clench. It just flowed up and over. She was proud. Maybe she’ll let me have three orgasms in a day. It’s been three years since I broke out of this headspace. She had sucked the last cum out of my cock, kneeling at my feet as I stroked furiously. I had screamed like in that Led Zeppelin song when she had rode me. Then I got to take her doggie style. All submissive thoughts exited my head and I thought I could give up my denial. I reread my journal from 2-3 years ago. It seems so distant. But this is now an infinite ray of orgasm control stretching into the distance. In a serious tone, she told me she appreciates that I am open to being kind, friendly, sweet, gentle and don’t try to assert authority as “the man”. I forget how she put it exactly. She was more eloquent. But in the end, she grateful I am this way. And She prefers me and my behavior being kept wanting. I am like when she met me. I was a chivalrous gentleman young man. We were both teenagers still. Just 18. I was patient and let her lead us in the bedroom. I was happy and pleased with her. We had snuggled and slept together for weeks before she put her hand down my underwear to find my erection. I never forced myself on her. I was always erect when she uncovered me. Ever ready. Ever patient. Ever hard. And that’s how I am now. Grateful. On this date two years ago we had that conversation. Just three years after I had my cock pierced, with her watching it all. It’s now hers. Now and forever. Completely. She embraced my chastity in September 2014. She embraced permanent orgasm control in April 2017. She’s extended my masturbation denial to even gripping my cock or fondling my balls recently. She told me to cherish having permission to fondle my nipples “while you have it”. I dream of being hers publicly someday. I want her to display and show off how well behaved her pet boy is. Maybe she’d let me have a treat. It would be obvious in my expression how long I’ve waited to … maybe even grip my erection… My chastity-caption fantasy is for her to give me one chance to stroke to orgasm for an audience. I wrote one up on this blog. The seconds it took me to finish would be the weeks I spent in both chastity and in a second engagement for a public renewal and extension of my vows. Today I’ve had 10 orgasms by my hand since July 2014. My last was May. I told her I dream of not having any this year. Not one. But I also told her I dream of edging myself for her, under her control. I really do miss stroking my cock. It’s very difficult. But she loves my struggle.

Last month, on 2019 July 26th, she made me gush in my cage from a pure mindfuck. She was so impressed that a few days later she told me I can stay in my cage. She would be happy keeping me frustrated forever. “I’ll keep you like this. Full and creamy. My little creampot. You can squirm and be frustrated” “Really? You’ll keep me like this?” “Yes” “How long?” “Forever.” “You can stay locked up in your little cage. I’ll take you out to play with you, just for a little bit, and then put you back in. You can spill in your cage.” “You can stay locked. I’ll keep you forever.” Later that morning after a long silence I said “I’m yours” “I’ll keep you. You’re mine.” “I’m your good boy” “Yes. You *have* to be. I won’t let you be any other way. You’re locked up. You have to be good.” This is a 100% true story. But I’m still not believing it. I’m still wrapping my head around the situation.