So, What's Going On?

So, what is going on?  Buses have made me cum before.  There was no real surprise there.  But that the very next day, when my balls were pretty much empty anyway, the sight of a girl’s beautiful hair should be enough to make me cum again; that was a shock.  And since then, on Tuesday June 5, going to work and coming home, I was again getting close to coming because of bus engines that weren’t even that bad!  Is the proximity of these events a freak occurrence or have I passed a tipping point and this is what I can expect now?  Is this what my Goddess has done to me with nearly four years of total denial?  Has She so emasculated me that I’m liable to cum in my pants at the slightest thing and with barely any warning?

I suppose that in four years of my cock being almost entirely starved of any normal stimulus my body has somehow adjusted downwards what it takes to produce an orgasm.  And as most erotic stimuli come from inside the head I suppose a similar adjustment has been made there. 

Whatever the mechanism may be if that is what Goddess has done to me then so be it.  The simple fact is I’m Her property and Goddess can do to me and with me whatever She wants.  I’ll just have to deal with it.  That is what slavery is.  And I am, before anything else, Goddess Valentine’s slave.  That's the level of my commitment to Her.  To be the personal property of someone as beautiful as Goddess Valentine is such an extraordinary privilege.  If there was a piece of paper I could sign, which would enshrine in law my commitment to Her, that would legally enslave me to Her and that only She would then have the power to cancel; if such a document existed I’d sign it without a moment’s hesitation.

Triptych: 3

Friday June1.

Friday morning I overslept by half an hour.  I normally arrive at work twenty minutes early anyway so that wasn’t especially disastrous.  It did mean though that when I got into town I’d have to take which ever bus came first and, more particularly, stay on it so with the events of yesterday in mind I took precautions and stuffed three cotton wool pads into the end of my chastity before I left.  (I use cotton wool pads to help with drying after bathing.)  My first bus was my usual untroublesome one, except for being the service that runs half an hour later.  There were very few people on it.  I picked up the free paper and sat down.  A story about Montreal caught my attention but it was horrible and I didn’t want to read any more.  In the meantime the bus had made a couple of stops; I’d not taken much notice but now I looked up to find right in front of me the kind of beautiful long jet black hair only Asian girls have, fine and soft and lots of it.  I forgot about the paper.  (Yesterday a beautiful blond and now a beautiful Asian girl!)

The girl had a powder compact in her hand and was doing her makeup.  Her hair was loose and she was constantly tipping her head to one side or the other so her hair hung free of her face in a long silky curtain, or she’d drag it all back behind her with her fingers.  Her beautiful hair was in more or less constant motion and it was absolutely gorgeous to watch.   Strands of it would appear curling softly towards me around the side of the seat or would bow through the grab handle on top of the seat back so the light caught the crest of the wave.  A couple of times she stopped to send a text or do something on her phone.  Eventually she finished with one compact and got out another.

I was treated to this vision for twenty minutes until the bus got into town and reached my stop but I was so mesmerised by what was going on in front of me that I couldn’t tear myself away.  I couldn’t get off until she did.  I’d stay on to the next stop.  Because that decision was dictated by the girl it felt like an act of submission to her.  It was the sense of submission that transformed adoration into arousal.  My cock responded immediately but just as immediately was checked by the increased restriction of my chastity with three cotton pads wadded into the end of it.  The feeling of physical denial was intense and that only fuelled the feeling of submission which in turn drove the futile attempt at erection.  At the next stop she made no move to get off.  She was applying her mascara.  Several times she dug her fingers into her hair and dragged it back over her shoulders and out of her way.  I still couldn’t leave.  The sense of submission intensified.   And now I didn’t know where the next stop on this route was so I had in effect put myself in her hands.  I didn’t know where she was going to take me and she had the power now to make me even later for work.  My cock was being relentlessly tormented by the strict confines of its chastity.  I felt a tightening in my balls as we set off again.

She finished her make up and since she seemed to have done everything else I was seriously wondering if she was going to brush her hair too.  I was desperately hoping she would although I could see she didn’t really need to.  I knew if she brushed her hair I was going to cum.  No hairbrush appeared but instead she sat forwards slightly so she could get at it all and began running her fingers through her hair to tidy it a little, first with her head on one side and then on the other.  That was enough.  I came.  Again!  Despite having been thoroughly milked two nights before and having a forced orgasm the previous morning, this girl, with no help from a badly maintained bus, had made me cum again with nothing more than the sensual beauty of her hair.  Because my chastity was so restricting I had nothing even approaching an erection and it was more like being milked again than having an orgasm.  I was just aware of the pulsing in my cock and the emptying sensations coming from my balls, and the amazing fact that it was happening at all.

Approaching the next stop the girl put everything back into her shoulder bag and then sat forwards slightly and pulled the whole length of her hair to the side so it was out of the way of her bag strap as she put it over her shoulder.  Then as she stood up she leaned back slightly towards me and swung her gorgeous long hair back across and then straightened up so it settled back into place hanging down her back.  Sigh.

When I got to work I was only fifteen minutes late.  But then if I hadn’t overslept... 

In the toilet (again) I dragged out the first of the cotton wool pads.  It was dry.  The two behind it were soggy with cum and had leaked a little out of the drain holes on the underside of the tube but that was it.

Being made to come against all expectation and by nothing more than the beauty of this girl’s hair made me realise one thing with absolute certainty.  If I should ever come face to face with Goddess Valentine, who is so breathtakingly beautiful and who has the most fabulously beautiful hair I’ve ever seen, who is so deeply connected in my head with thoughts of submission and all kinds of other erotic associations, what ever the circumstances may be at the time, I’ll cum in my pants there and then.

Triptych: 2

Wednesday May 30.

I get two buses to work, one into town and then the second the rest of the way. The queue for the second bus was more of a loose cluster than a line. Right on the edge of my peripheral vision while I was waiting I caught an impression of long pale blond hair as a girl joined the queue. When the bus came it was nearly empty and I decided to sit downstairs. The girl I’d noticed could have sat anywhere but she chose the seat directly in front of mine and I was suddenly looking at a cascade of soft pale blond hair, long and straight, hanging down the girl’s back. It was quite beautiful; not as beautiful as Goddess’s hair but then very few girls have hair to equal the beauty of Goddess’s perfect locks.

Just before the girl sat down I’d noticed from the fact of my teeth rattling that the bus was vibrating to an extent even more absurd than usual; it was like sitting on a berserk washing machine.  This bus was on the route I used to catch all the way from home to work.  The vehicles on it are all maintained in the same depot and so consistently caused me problems, in my sensitive long-term denied condition, that I stopped using them and found another route to get me into town.  To try to represent what this thing was like let’s try this: it was like this when it was stood with the engine idling (I use the term ‘idling’ only loosely):

DRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR……………

and like this when running:
DRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR………………..

And for contrast this is what my untroublesome bus into town, which presumably is competently serviced, is like:

mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm……………

  

Zen and the Art of Vehicle Maintenance.  Anyway, after a few more seconds boarding passengers at the stop we set off.  DRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR….  The difference was negligible and we drove down the road while I struggled to ignore the bus and admire the beauty of the girl’s hair in front of me.  Somehow, despite all the engine parts which must have fallen off, we made it to the next stop.  RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR…..  ‘This is fucking ridiculous,’ I thought, being careful to keep my mouth shut in case any teeth fell out.  Apart from the particular danger it represented to me the state of this bus was noisy and uncomfortable anyway.  It was just plain annoying, more so for me as it was unnecessarily ruining the rare privilege of being able to sit quietly in worshipful adoration of something beautiful.  If the girl and her beautiful hair hadn’t been there I’d have got off there and then.  Even as it was I was considering it since quiet contemplation of anything was impossible but I was torn between avoiding the obvious dangers of this ridiculously maintained engine and the sight of the girl’s beautiful hair.  But then another girl came and sat beside me and decided for me that I’d stay where I was for now.  There wasn’t far to go, anyway.  But, just as the bus pulled out again, I felt a sudden tightening in my balls.  That was the only warning I got and a few seconds later I felt my cock start spasming cum into my pants.  A beautiful blond had sat in front of me on a bus and within two minutes I’d come in my pants.  Terrific.  And I’d not even been able to appreciate her properly.  I just felt humiliated, frustrated and annoyed.  I couldn’t help projecting onto her the thought that was running through my head.  ‘Haha!  That’s what you get for presuming to stare at my beautiful hair.  Now you can just sit there while your cum soaks through to your trousers.’  And underneath that was, ‘Who the hell services this fucking bus?!’  Humiliated and annoyed.

The bus hadn’t even covered a hundred yards.  There was still another ten minutes before I’d get to work and naturally we hit all the lights on red so it took even longer.  The girl was still there of course but now when I looked at the beauty of her hair I only felt my humiliation and an intense frustration because although it made no difference now the damn bus was still so completely distracting.

As soon as I got to work I went straight into a toilet cubicle. By the damage being not too bad it was evident how thoroughly I’d been milked the night before.   Even so I still had to spend some time drawing the damp patch out as much as I could with toilet paper and then had to bin another pair of underpants. In the end, although it could have been much worse, the whole incident put a dampener on my mood for the whole day.

Triptych: 1

I’ve been aware lately that I’ve not posted here for a while.  My long-term chastity experience had reached one of its occasional plateaus where nothing much seems to be happening.  I was beginning to wonder what I could write about.  But then…

Tuesday May 29.

I had a violent nocturnal ball emptying during the night of Tuesday/Wednesday.  For several nights preceding this I’d had my sleep repeatedly disturbed by intense cbt sessions.  These had me writhing around in the bed with Goddess’s name on my lips while my cock and balls were teased and tormented by the restrictions of my very prolonged chastity.  As ever I knew who was really doing it to me and the thought of that, as ever, produced the familiar circle of denial and arousal.  These events kept on coming night after night.  I was so knackered at work from lack of sleep!  The nocturnal cbt sessions had never clustered like that before so I was going to write about that and the delights of being tortured like this by my beloved, beautiful and unattainable Goddess.  However, it turned out theses things were merely the preliminary tremors of something else and events overtook the speed at which I compose these things.  I find it easier if I have a little distance between ‘me’ and the event I’m describing.

On the Tuesday night at about 0300 I was woken from dreaming about something which had probably been ticking away in the subconscious for a while but evaporated instantly as the eruption began.   I woke up with the most brutal violent orgasms battering their way out of my restricted cock.  And they didn’t seem to stop, they just went on and on.  It was so unexpected and so intense and it wasn’t me doing it; it felt like I was being thoroughly and pitilessly milked.  Afterwards I was exhausted and in something like a state of shock.  There was cum everywhere.  Well, not everywhere.  It wasn’t running down the walls.  I hauled myself out of bed, stumbled into the bathroom to clean myself up, and then crawled back into bed.

I've no idea what I wss dreaming about.
Perhaps it was something like this.
Perhaps it wasn't.

Wednesday morning, having not been disturbed again, I woke a little more refreshed than previous nights and set off for work as normal…