What the chastity?

I want to buy a chastity belt. I am not exactly sure what the allure is to me, especially since I never touch myself anyway, because I truly believe (and this has nothing necessarily to do with d/s) that pleasuring myself is not my job. It was meant to be outsourced, and I have always outsourced it. It has definitely been over a decade since I took care of my own business, and I have no intention of starting now. It just does absolutely nothing for me to get freaky with myself so either someone else does it for me, or I just leave it the fuck alone. I mean there's a conflict at the end of this road for me. Say I start playing with my cunt, and it feels good, and I keep doing it till I am about to cum...whose permission do I ask of it's just me? I haven't tried this is fifteen years (holy fuck) but I have a hunch that I might find it physically impossible to orgasm just by myself.

But also, I don't want to orgasm at all.

I don't need a chastity belt to enforce that (because I have a human chastity belt, and I don't think he is going to appreciate me calling him that but it's funny, and I will get myself into endless trouble to make a joke, comedy demands sacrifice), but even though I don't *need* the chastity belt, I think it's hot. The weird thing is how much harder it is to find a (good, effective and practical) chastity belt for females than it is for males. You'd think, given that it was a concept that came to be to restrict women from touching themselves (lest we become hysterical through masturbation), it would be much easier to find one for women, but as soon as it went from oppressive contraption to niche sex toy, it became an almost exclusively male fetish. Fuck that. When did we decide that men get to monopolize desperation and frustration? I want that. I want that all the fucking time.

You can call it whatever you want. You can call it long-term denial. Orgasm control. Erotic chastity. I cannot quibble over the terminology, but the way I view it, it's about shifting the onus of sexual activity (which for me includes all pain-based activity too) from satisfaction (that is, orgasms) to arousal. To me, orgasms are like action-packed, plot bases suspence novels, they're all about the climax, but arousal is like reading a journal, there is no conclusion, but the more you read, the more trapped you are in the mire of the story. You don't always get the information you want from the story, and often you're just left hanging, and wondering if a certain point will ever be resolved, yet you keep reading, not in the hope of resolution, but because you need to know what more could be going on.

I've been trying to explain this to people for over a decade, and it's hard, because when you say things like "tease me" people expect there to be a conclusion to the teasing, but I don't see it that way at all, I would rather end orgasms completely. Or at least for several months at a time. For one thing that appeals to the worthless, objectified, human-property side of me, because, why should anyone have to make the effort to get me there? That is not what I am here for, it's not my point. It's like using a wok to eat, you can do it, but that is not what it's for and now you have a dirty wok for no reason at all. It doesn't make sense to me to have orgasms. Especially when controlling me through the torment of denial is much more pleasurable for all involved, and better too. I'm much more malleable, and focused, and oddly, polite.

I have something of a complex relationship with orgasms (who doesn't, yeah?). When I had my first ever orgasm, I loved it, it was amazing and I wanted to feel exactly that over and over again. I never felt it again, never, it never felt exactly like that. Still, the first few years of having orgasms, was alright. They felt good, I wanted them, and I wasn't sexually active so I did it myself. I had them with my first "partner" as well, and that may have been the only time I ever had penetrative orgasms. After him, the orgasms just stopped. When they came back again, I was with a man who loved controlling every aspect of my life, and sexuality, so he was constantly denying me to the point where any eventual orgasm was just excruciating. The excruciating orgasms continued for a decade, with everyone, not just him. I hated them. They were like punishment, and for the most part, I just didn't have them, and that is when I developed my strong affinity for what I am henceforth calling chastity.  It just felt so much better to approach release, and never get there. Never. Most of the orgasms I had in those years were accidental, intended to hurt or in my sleep (and even then it was like maybe forty orgasm in ten years). But it wasn't until I started to have orgasms that felt good (my husband is *mad* dexterous, you wouldn't believe it, it's *nuts*), that the quality of denial and arousal became irresistible.

It makes some kind of sense. The denial of something you genuinely desire is both more effective, and more erotic, than something you were hoping not to experience anyway. With him I was able develop a kind of finesse, an artful descent into the madness of arousal. Arousal is an amazing thing. It satisfies and torments all at once, but the most amazing thing it does is act like a microscope. It puts your entire sexuality under a lens and you see it so close and clear, the world around you starts to get foggy. The desperate frustration is so effective at removing all inhibition, and while denial in itself can be quite erotic, knowing that something is not even on the table, not even up for discussion, is heartbreaking in a way that's a lot more appealing. Denial is when he says no, but chastity is when I cannot even ask. I like not being allowed to ask. I like the promise that this is never going to happen, it allows me to seek all my pleasure within what is allowed.

And that makes pleasure an interesting thing, because I cannot quite pinpoint where it will come from. Especially now. For a few years it was different, even when he wasn't letting me cum, he would touch me alot. He would let me ask, beg for and want it. I am not an "edger" because there is some satisfaction at the edge that terrifies me, so I like to go only 75% of the way to satisfaction, and stop there, or he does, I am no longer sure whose idea this was. It's different now. I have been going through something, nothing bad, just something of a natural transition perhaps, and the craving for intensity and intense structure (of communication) is at the heart of it. I realised a few years ago that there is very little "more" left for me (in terms of sexual exploration) and it was depressing, but I realised last year that just because you cannot expand upwards, doesn't mean you cannot expand on width (just ask my ass and its lockdown obsession with cheese). The list of new things left to do is short, but there are many areas where I'd like now to go vast and deep. I hate how that makes me sound, but it's true, I think there is madness in detail.

And arousal is the closest I ever came to complete madness. Especially this time. It's been 60 days. 60-days of what I am calling chastity, and it's endless, but unlike the usual, he touches me very little. He indulges me very little. He fucks me only when he wants (and there's no warning whatsoever). He hurts my cunt a lot, but really, it's his primary motivation for touching me. He has phases when he wants to toy with me, and the phases are intense (and truly just, disgusting, I cannot even write those stories without having to eviscerate my own fingers) and consuming. He won't let me ask for anything. Beg for anything. Even express my desire for anything. It's all him. I'm just the body. The subject. The object on which he acts our his fantasies.

And I am finding, this time, my satisfaction lies in his severity. It's very, detailed. I have never been good at biting my tongue nor not asking for what I want, but I am good at it now, because I see the eroticism of it. I see how it serves my own sexuality. I never would have learnt that about myself if it wasn't for arousal. I never would have learnt a lot of things if it hadn't allowed me to examine the fabric of my sexuality so closed. That's why I would rather never have orgasms, because while they do physically feel good now, they drain my brain. It takes weeks for me to work at optimal capacity again. They make me have emotions. Ick. I'd rather have madness. Madness is good.