If you read yesterday’s post, I suppose you think I went on about about the unhappy prospect of permanent denial a little more than necessary. If so, perhaps you’re right since yesterday afternoon LJ informed me it was time for my first release.
First, she cautioned the orgasm I’d receive out of her munificence was not for my pleasure. It was only to flush the plumbing system of pent up semen for benefit of health and welfare.
Frankly, I was feeling so desperate, I was happy to get an orgasm on any grounds. But, as LJ laid out the terms of the impending seminal discharge in her usual direct business-like fashion, suddenly, it sounded so absolutely clinical and bleak.
After removing the cage on her instructions, I was required to undress and to adopt a specific posture for masturbation. I was then given a ridiculously short time to masturbate and achieve the expected therapeutic orgasm. Of course, I was instructed in no uncertain terms to remove my hand at the very moment climax was imminent, to ruin it by allowing the orgasm to dribble away.
As I feared, the ridiculously short time allowance proved insufficient to achieve orgasm. I was then required to wait a preposterously long period before being permitted a second attempt. Fortunately, the stimulation during the first attempt along with the long pause had made me even more outrageously horny. Suffice to say, I achieved my objective with time to spare on the second crack at it.
I’m not a complete novice to “ruined” orgasms. I once had a kinky girlfriend subject me to one for “fun” while I was bound to a bed and in no position to object. That was quite a long time ago. I’d forgotten just what an act of cruelty a ruined orgasm truly is.
The result of the therapeutic orgasm was I felt a slight bit of relief from the heaviness in my balls, and it seemed to take a little of the edge off of the desperation to come I’d endured the past many days. But, it was certainly not the mind-blowing, mother of all orgasms I’d been dreaming of for days on end. I remained horny as fuck, which is what LJ intended. But, on a positive note, I did not experience the emotional drop or endorphins crash I’ve read that many chaste men suffer when allowed release.
The final humiliation was when LJ ordered me to consume my emissions. That is not something I’ve ever done. It’s not something I’ve ever even thought of doing. Call me weird, but I’ve never been the slightest bit curious about what semen tastes like, mine or anyone’s. Frankly, until yesterday afternoon, I’d have doubted anyone could have ever convinced me to taste it, much less eat it. But, there I was, doing it at the behest of a woman I hardly know. But, after considering the terrible sway and power the woman wields over me; in the end, I thought it best not to test her patience.
To make matters worse, after being denied orgasms for nine days, the longest period of chasteness I’ve ever been subjected to, the volume of ejaculate was at least twice the norm for me. That didn’t make the task any easier.
Once I swallowed the final indignity, quite literally, the health and welfare exercise was concluded. After giving the cage a proper cleaning and showering, I went back into the cage and was locked.
Ominously, LJ warned releases would be most infrequent and that I shouldn’t count on the next one coming anywhere near as quickly as she had so generously allowed the first. Not something I really wanted to hear.
The most positive thing about this experience thus far is at least she hasn’t subjected me to any cruel sexual teasing. While I had assumed at the beginning teasing was part of the whole chastity thing, it hasn’t been that way at all. I suppose I should count my blessings, as I shudder to think about what condition that might leave me in. Probably curled into a fetal ball on the floor in a catatonic state from sexual frustration overload. I wonder if I’ll ever learn to endure this, much less embrace it.