Purpose

May you laugh easily
may your life be filled with joy and peace
may you be open to the beauty of life;
always remember that my love is your surround sound

 Men like Mozart gave their gifts to the world
 But I can only offer you what I have to give -
 eternal unconditional love, tolerance and
 a state of bliss and harmony.

Accept this gift.
Let it rise you up and compel you to live
Completely, cheerfully and contentedly.

This is my purpose.

Adaptation

For a few reasons, this is a time of transition for me and I have tried hard to take my time and let the dust settle where it may –not forcing any issues or feelings too much but giving myself time to make the necessary adjustments and see what comes. Another word for all of this is ‘adaptation’. I have been adapting to my new circumstances.

In this process, I have been alert to what may not have altered or changed as well. Again, I haven’t had any preconceptions about that; haven’t assumed anything at all but just remained mindful.

I have tried, and I have tried in the past without success as well, to work on the basis that I don’t have certain needs. There is a difference between wanting something and needing something and I have tried to think as a vanilla/non-kinky person would.  Lately, I have worked on the assumption that I have physical wants but that I don’t necessarily need to have those physical sensations in order to live well. 

 I had almost hoped to prove to myself that I no longer have those physical needs. It seemed like not a bad outcome in my mind because if you don’t have physical needs then you are not reliant on others. You don’t have to expect anything of anyone else and you can feel more in charge of your own destiny. This was the thought.

However time and circumstance has demonstrated to me that my physical needs are here to stay and that could well relate to the fact that my mindset or headspace remains that of the doll. Perhaps I have been indoctrinated or brainwashed or perhaps I continue to feel like the doll because this is my true nature. Time and time again I was told that a dolli needed to be used. You know my story. But, how could that really be true? If I didn’t fill the holes, surely I could live perfectly well! It just is not so.

A few nights ago, my husband put my cock gag into my mouth as he played with me. It was late at night and he asked if I would like to sleep with it in. I nodded and he turned out the light. A few minutes later I wondered if I had chosen badly. Seven or eight hours like this was a long time. But, the thought passed and I drifted into sleep.

I woke many times for a split second, much as I do when I am plugged in another hole (yes, I do feel a bit coy today) and in those split seconds I had a consciousness that I was incredibly happy and peaceful and that my mind was a clean slate. I was not worried or concerned about anything at all. To the contrary, I was aroused and content all at the one moment. It was like coming home.

I have had some restless days in the past few weeks when I have not felt right. I have not shared the reason why but my husband was apparently aware of the reason and he said to me over the weekend, “You haven’t been using your pluggiz and you know that is no good for you.” There it was – the cold, hard facts. I desperately needed my plugs; the stretching; the use.

I reinstated the procedure last night and slept like a baby; woke early and decided to walk the dogs before the day got underway. I felt positive and in control of my own destiny; confident and able and I chose to leave the plug in. It felt natural to do so and it continued to feel natural to do so as I walked around the park; waved and smiled to the usual suspects about my neighbourhood up at this time of the morning.

I do best with limits. I feel more when I am less. These are fundamental truths. There is no point in refuting them.

On the flip side of the coin, what I have also established is that I also do best when I am in control of myself to become more: to function at optimal levels. I need to achieve: to ensure that my family have what they need and that I have what I need to lead a full and fulfilling life.

It has taken some time for me to get my ducks in a row. It has taken time for me to work with my therapist to establish that I do indeed have a submissive nature with certain needs but that I also have a need to challenge myself and grow: to ensure that I do not subjugate myself and sacrifice myself to anyone and that I seek progress and growth in my life. I have a need to submit to become less and to challenge myself to become more. I need both those of components in my life to live well and give my best.

And so it is that part of me needs to be contained, to be less, whilst part of me needs to be more. It is with this knowledge that I can say that this day is the first day of the rest of my life and even though outside it is raining cats and dogs and the sky is bleak, inside my head it is perfectly clear and I move on, full steam ahead.

Chastity belts

Alone now with her thoughts, unable to express them as she once could, she found herself becoming more introspective. The thoughts remained. The thoughts did not go away. On the contrary, they haunted her now. She wanted more, much more than she had ever wanted before. Her thoughts went to much darker places and the desire for restraint and containment grew with the days.

Her dreams and fantasies spoke to a desire for even tighter control.

The man saw the need and he responded. From now on he told her, she would wear a chastity belt day and night and her holes would be stuffed and stretched so that she was nearly always in use.

The key to the padlocks would be worn on a leather thread around his neck and she would need to come to him and plead her case if she should need to make use of the key, which must be returned to him immediately thereafter, with gratitude.

The news of this intense containment did not alarm. It merely stirred  her.

At last; contained and under his tight control.

"Thank you, " she whispered.

Reinvention

I had five couples to dinner on Saturday night. It was an old fashioned dinner party with everything laid on. It wasn't out of any sort of obligation that I did that but rather a strong desire to do things very well and give everyone a good time. They were effusive in their praise at the time and I have had some lovely phone calls thanking me for such a wonderful evening.

In fact all six couples have been together since our 20s and our marriages are all very strong. Patricia (let's call her) said to me just now that my husband was "devoted" to me and it pulled me up with a round turn. She is absolutely right. He is devoted to me; still passionate, loving and turned on by me.

She is moving to Singapore with John (let's call him) and although she doesn't want to move to Singapore again we agreed she needed to think of it as an "adventure". She said to me "at our age, darling, in our 50s now, we have to reinvent our marriages." I smiled. Little did she know that I reinvented mine some years ago and have had a blast doing so, revelling in being "the slut", that object that needs use. That would be too much information so instead of telling her of my debasement, I simply agreed. As you do. Time indeed to reinvent our marriages!

My husband and I remain full of love for one another; deeply committed to one another and we look forward to the next part of our lives with a great sense of excitement and vigor. Honestly, who could ask for more?

Relaxing wth strict thoughts

My fantasy life is almost as old as me. Even whilst I was working it 24/7 so that I didn't get into any trouble at home or at school, in my mind the Masters and Mistresses were very strict and quite sadistic and I took the brunt of their committed minds to exact obedience from me, as well as all the other girls.

There are parts of 'Jane Eyre' at the beginning that I would happily fast forward. It is painful (not in a good way) to watch the way they treat her friend and her ultimate death from their lack of care. But, I don't feel the same way about their behaviour when it comes to placing Jane on the stool in the middle of an empty room for most of the day. Yes, I felt sorry for her, of course, but it enacted something in me and I still recall that scene in my fantasies more often than I should probably admit.

My fantasy life is for the purposes of complete relaxation and fulfiment. My thoughts go (just did a few minutes ago actually)  to scenarios that are very cruel in some people's eyes and incredibly politically incorrect. In my dreams 'feminism' is an unknown word or concept and girls are for use; for service. Education is about training them for the life they were born to lead and most importantly, they need to understand and come to terms with the fact that their bodies are for the pleasure of men.

In my educational establishment it is not uncommon for girls to be lectured on the purpose of their bodies; on the purpose for each part of their body. Girls' buttocks, they are told, are round and soft  because they were made for the purposes of correction. A girl could be stroked or paddled and within a few days her buttocks were good as new, back to alabaster white; a new and clean canvass on which to paint again.

A girl, we are told, should receive regular corporal discipline, not just for the purposes of punishment wherein they attend the Master's study for a plentiful dose of the cane, but for the purposes of reminding her that she is designed to serve. A weekly correction on a Sunday evening, immediately after Chapel is the perfect way for a girl to begin the school week; the perfect reminder that it is her duty to carefully listen to all instructions, to speak only when spoken to or when permission is granted and to do her best in all her studies and exams at all times.

It is no mere co-incidence that after we are all soundly strapped each Sunday evening we are sent to sit our bare and very red bottoms on cold, hard seats to write lines. What better way to keep the sting of the strap present in our minds as we write 200 times,

"Young ladies must be obedient, honest and respectful at all times."

The educational establishment of my fantasies is designed to produce young women best suited to become the wives of old-fashioned and up standing men who keep a woman in her place; at their heel and ever ready to serve him in any way they should desire.

It is not an easy training. I would be kidding you if I said that. However, perhaps it will please you to know that the young woman...well, most of the them... come to appreciate their training. It has been said that the students of the boarding house dormitories are never more settled and content than on a Sunday evening tucked into their beds.

Far from finding the school a wretched place they pray one day to leave, they come to have a fondness for and an acceptance of their life there. Diligence is richly rewarded and the young women look forward immensely to the small doses of praise they are given. This is not an everyday event. It is important not to let praise go to a girl's head. But, if their Masters and Mistresses are pleased, this is pleasure enjoy for them. It is a small life, but a richly rewarding one. One by one, this lesson is imparted.

The Effects of Spanking

Not all submissives enjoy being spanked I realize, but a great many of them do. Well, perhaps they don't enjoy it at the time on all levels or any levels, but the spanking does satisfy them later, at least in some way. They may enjoy the memory. Perhaps they are proud that they endured it. Perhaps they are proud they were pleasing to the Top/Dominant. Perhaps they just feel better after a spanking. If the spanking was given to punish and then forgive obviously it leads to a cleansing sort of state and that is a highly desired outcome.

I think many submissives enjoy wearing marks and I think many submissives enjoy that feeling when they sit down that it hurts a bit. For a great many submissives, a spanking is sexually arousing and a sexually aroused person is usually a happy person. I don't think that it is possible (is it?) to be sexually aroused and unhappy (at least not completely) so if sexual arousal is the outcome of a spanking then it certainly can't be all bad.

I've been thinking about the situation where a girl may be more than spanked by her Top/Dominant; where the word "spanking" really is not the right word. Some girls are whipped, beaten, caned, thrashed and paddled far beyond what I, or dare I say even most girls could tolerate. Sometimes, this does not occur because the Top/Dominant is cruel or vicious or over the top or because the submissive enjoys that level of pain but because it is thought to be therapeutic for the girl. She seems more settled after this 'treatment'.

I have long been fascinated by this sort of situation. About three years ago I read of a news report from Russia where psychologists asked for volunteers suffering depression who would be caned regularly to see if this had any effect on their depressive states. Believe it or not they got their volunteers and whilst some of them made complaints about the pain of the canings themselves and the psychologists had to talk them into returning for future sessions, it was apparent that the canings had a profound effect on their mental state.

I never forgot that news report and I have wondered about it ever since. I read in the past week a psychology blog wherein the reasons for cutting (self harm) was explored and I left a comment asking if she had anything to offer re using whippings in replacement of cutting. She could offer me no specific data except to say that it appeared that the mental state had altered the pain for pleasure and that this appeared to have a physiological effect which led to reduced anxiety (in the same way that cutting may temporarily reduce anxiety).

I used to read a blog written by a Chinese/American slave and she talked of the fact that her man instigated daily swats. At times, she endured long and hard disciplinary sessions so at first she wondered what effect 5 or 6 firm swats to her bottom could produce. Each morning before she was ready to leave the apartment she was to come to him and bare her bottom so that he could swat it with his hand firmly. She soon came to realize, she said, that these swats were extremely affirming of their relationship and that she appreciated them very much. The consistency of this approach kept her happy and contained.

From personal experience I can say that both strategies; an occasional sound caning/paddling and a daily swatting  has had a positive effect on me. I don't run around asking for a sound caning or paddling and I get into position reluctantly when  they come up, but on some level I definitely enjoy them whilst they are in progress and afterwards I hold onto them as a very positive memory. I feel quite buoyant after them.

Such treatment is arousing to me for sure but more than that, I like very much that I was dominated in this way. I like that I had no control. I like that very much. I also like the way my bottom feels afterwards; the way it feels to sit down and I like the way my mind works after a darn sound hiding. I think with  great clarity. I feel happy and very nicely put in my place. I feel elevated and content.

Now, I am not going to lie about some residual effects. My husband says that there is a 48 hour danger period after such a session and there is always the risk that I will attempt to wrestle back control with words. This is a totally sub-conscious thing but he assures me it does happen and unfortunately this has made him reluctant at times to risk this happening. He will bypass it altogether he says if he feels he has to endure this wrestling of control because that is a pain in the ass for him.  I regret this behaviour and try hard to monitor myself.

I have also found marvellous results from a daily spanking. We've tried this in two ways. We had a longish period of time where I came to him each evening when I was ready for bed and got about 6 swats with his hand or a piece of wood he happened to have in his study which produced a lovely thud. I found this very centering.

The other way we have done this is to get 4 or so stripes with the cane on waking or very soon thereafter. Whilst I was able to come to him mostly to get my evening swats, I found that I was not mentioning when he forgot to bring out the cane in the morning and this died a natural death, which is unfortunate because they really did do me a tonne of good. In the past few days he has been back to the morning caning but our boys are with us in a smallish holiday house and unfortunately after a long break I'm a little too vocal right now to proceed.

I'm of the opinion that consistency is very important. A few years ago I was able to be spanked or caned much harder and longer than I am now and that is because they were given consistently. Nowadays, sometimes with long gaps between sessions I feel like a total newbie. And, I don't like that feeling at all. I want to be at least vaguely brave and I want to experience all those 'feel good' hormones or whatever they are that flood my brain. Whether that is physiological or something else, I want that feeling back!

I happen to think that the spanking revs up my body which kick starts my brain. The spanking reminds me of my status and of the fact that I am under some one's control. That reminder together with the physical evidence and after effect of the spanking keeps me feeling contained and in the submissive state, which is a natural state for me, consistent with my nature. Since there is an aspect to my personality that is very independent and in conflict with my nature the spankings keep me grounded. To use vernacular that cindi would understand, the spankings stop 'the girl' from keeping cindi locked away. This is a good thing.

(P.S. I have been advised by email that there is a compatability issue with some browsers and blogspot making it impossible to comment. For over a month I have been unable to post on blogspot with an Internet Explorer browser and find that the only reliable browser for blogging is Firefox. The cynic in me wonders if this is a google/microsoft war, but who knows!)

Frederick takes Agnes shopping

The following is Agnes' point of view of when Frederick took her shopping and follows on from here:

Agnes enjoyed walking the streets of Paris with Frederick but she had to remind herself that she was not able to act autonomously any more. Captivated by the beauty she spied in the store windows she would have lingered longer at various locations if on her own and sometimes she would wander off to look at something, unaware that Frederick was not sure where she had gone. She was still inclined to think of herself as a sole entity. She sometimes had in her mind where she thought they were going and would proceed in that direction only to discover that Frederick was steering her the opposite way.

On this occasion, she was turning the corner to go left only to feel Frederick grab her elbow and turn her to the right to cross the street. It was an unusual sensation being grabbed by the elbow; much more controlling, she felt, than if he had simply put his hand in hers. She felt like a little girl being supervised by an adult when he did that and slightly embarrassed she looked back over her shoulder to see if anyone had been watching.

A few doors down the street Frederick turned into the entrance of a particular store and finding the window display instantly appealing she remarked on how lovely she found the dresses. She was pleased that Frederick suggested they go in and look more closely.

Once inside the store, Agnes found herself once again confronted by a situation where Frederick seemed to be well known and welcomed by other women. Although it had seemed to her serendipitous that Frederick and she had agreed to enter this particular store, it was now obvious that he was a regular customer here and a well known and popular customer at that. She suddenly felt a wave of insecurity and it was that sense of insecurity or even jealousy that had her tug on his arm.

Frederick, on the other hand, seemed to be in his element chatting with the sales women and graciously introduced Agnes to them and asked for their help in selecting a special dress. Before she knew what was happening they too had taken her by the elbows and whisked her away to show her racks of clothes. She looked back at Frederick for some guidance as to whether it was all right and he gestured to her to follow them along.

This was a brand new experience for Agnes and not wanting him to think that she was in any way pre-empting the situation or having any expectations of him, she returned to him with a few dresses and asked which he liked. But, he assured her that as pieces of cloth, the dresses mattered little to him. He wanted to see how Agnes brought them to life before he could make any decision. He wanted her to try them all on.

 It seemed so decadent to her. Agnes had to save carefully to be able to afford new pieces of clothing. She loved to look at beautiful things but her need for frugality meant that she was rarely tempted to try anything on in such an expensive store. Also, being the centre of attention was not comfortable for her. The whole situation had a surreal quality about it for her. 

Seeing that she was hesitant Frederick gestured to her to “go go go go” and on the strength of his determination, she tried to relax into her predicament. She even managed to giggle along with the girls as they prepared her to model the garments for Fredrick.

Agnes came out to where Frederick was sitting on a leather wing-backed chair. She was wearing a floral-patterned summer dress. She stood in front of him but she seemed self-conscious, her hands in front of her. “Stand on the balls of your feet. Turn around and show off the dress.” As Agnes turned and twirled about she began to take on the presence of a little girl. His direction and presence was giving her some confidence and he had her put the dress aside as a possibility. This routine was repeated for the next dress Agnes modelled. Frederick rejected that one and Agnes headed back to the dressing room to try on the next outfit.

This time, Agnes appeared in a blazer and skirt with no shirt underneath. She was more comfortable with showing herself off now and her comfort in the outfit was apparent. Agnes tended towards appreciating  classic clothing and this was an outfit she might have gravitated to herself if on her own. Frederick nodded his approval and off she went to the changing room, smiling broadly. This really was a lovely, indulgent experience with Frederick there, she had decided. She was thoroughly enjoying herself now, fully immersed in a sense of feeling pretty and feminine.

Agnes modelled several other outfits with her last one being a little black dress with a well defined waist and slightly flared at the hips. It was a very feminine dress and Agnes felt wonderful in it. She felt sophisticated and older than her age and she liked that feeling. She could see from Frederick’s expression that he liked the black dress very much as well, which pleased her. However, Agnes had already taken note of the price tag and although it was a dream dress, she definitely could not afford it and put it out of her mind.

Once Agnes told Fredrick that she had tried on everything she had picked out, he had her go change back into her own dress and asked Darlene, one of the assistants to put all the outfits Agnes had modelled on a rack. He wanted to know which one Agnes would choose. She pointed to a summer dress that she thought she would be able to wear often and which was a reasonable price. It was a sensible and affordable choice for her.

Frederick wanted to know if she liked the skirt and blazer and she said she said, but she preferred the dress. He also questioned her about the black dress. She was becoming concerned because she had already decided on the dress using her own criteria.

“I’m not trying to change your mind or make you pick something you don’t want,” he assured her and she relaxed again. He pulled Agnes closer to him and with his hand on the back of her neck he told the two girls that they were taking the two dresses and the blazer outfit.

This panicked Agnes and her response was immediate. “I can’t afford these dresses.” Frederick tried to calm her by telling her that it was his treat and that she could consider it an early birthday present. But, still Agnes was unconvinced. He told her that they were expensive and that she couldn’t let him do this.

Now, Frederick was more assertive with her. “It is not a matter of you letting me do this or not. It is what I am doing.”

It was these words that made Agnes realize that this situation was quite outside of her control. She was in no place to tell Frederick what he could do. She stopped such talk immediately and feeling a surge of warmth towards him she hugged him tightly. “You are so good to me,” she whispered into his ear.

She felt wonderfully indulged. It had never occurred to her that a man would be so generous to her and of course, the thought that he wanted her to have these outfits and that she would wear them when out with him, her heart was glowing with pride.

When Frederick instructed her to go with Darlene to gather some lingerie to go with the outfits she had the thought that this must be what it feels like to be a princess and be able to purchase whatever her heart desired. The experience was like a fairy tale to her. At that moment she thought herself the luckiest girl in the world.

The never-ending fantasy

All things being equal, you'd think that a girl would get tired of a particular fantasy. Don't you think? But, I never, never do.

We've got a little break in the proceedings of life here: winter term break. There is more of an opportunity to sleep in a little; get a little more sleep and on waking, let the mind wander and settle where it will.

And, where does the girl's mind go? Well, would you care to follow me?

I am at the estate of a man He is a very nice man: handsome, well spoken, learned and well respected within his industry. His home is comfortable but not at all ostentatious. It is an 'old money' sort of home where the rugs are a little worn but they are so precious, they look best that way.

I am not sure exactly why this particular man was chosen for me but my father has informed me that this is a good marriage, that my husband is a good and suitable man and that I should listen carefully to what he says and obey him. He assures me that even though he may ask me to do things that are unusual or even uncomfortable, that it is for the best. I should trust his judgement in choosing this man for me, no matter what happens. It is all for a reason, he says.

Certainly, the courtship was a desirable thing. He is a most courteous man and extremely considerate. The wedding is quite beautiful and day by day, I find myself more and more attached to the man. Our relationship is quite formal in tone but he is most certainly attentive and kind to me.

For a time, he allows me to settle into his routines. He enjoys the rituals and routines of a day and it is not at all difficult to follow that lead: to rise at a certain time, to eat at a certain time and to go to bed at a certain time.

He is not one to raise his voice but he does make it clear when something I do is not to his tastes or requirements. Day by day, he begins to guide me as to how to behave in his company.

A few weeks after we have returned from the honeymoon (time spent lazing in and touring Tuscany) he introduces me to a woman who he has employed to be his housekeeper and who will assist me with my "role".In fact, we already have a weekly cleaner and a part time cook, but this woman will oversee matters, he says. I wonder to myself if this is really necessary and what I might do with my time but I say nothing. He is not a man a young girl would consider questioning so early in the marriage.

One day, he calls the woman into our bedroom and has her take measurements of my body and a week later he brings home from a business trip in the city what he explains to me is a corset. It will bring my waist in four inches, he informs me and give me more of an hour glass figure. As well, he explains, it will "contain" me; remind me of my "place" and "purpose".

He watches as the woman, whom I am to simply call "Madame" pulls the corset tighter and tighter until I feel very constricted. "That will be fine for now," he says to her. "Give her time to get used to the constriction before you make it any tighter. There is  no hurry."

I wonder how it could possibly be the case that the garment could be tied any tighter than it is already but I say nothing, quite intimidated by the pair to dare to complain. I look in the mirror and am surprised to feel a sense of pride at my appearance especially when I hear the words,

"She is beautiful, Sir. She has great potential."

"Indeed. I chose carefully before I  selected my bride."

Edwin then turns to me and with his hands around my tiny waist, and his lips close to my ear, "My darling, you make me very proud. I will guide you and protect you and in my care you will open and blossom like a flower. All you need do is what you are told. Understand?"

"Yes, Sir, I understand."

"That's my girl."

(to be continued, perhaps...)