Drilling down

First of all, I want to record that I am happy. There are reasons for this sense of happiness, although I see it more of a 'welling' of happiness, something with its own internal logic and not necessarily related to external factors. But, since I'm trying to be 'aware' of this new felt sense of happiness and how that came to pass, let's drill down.

First thing that comes to mind: I've little pressure in my life at this time, especially today. I'm typing away here at my desk, but I've precious little that really needs to be done. I'll go and explore the world a little once I've tapped away on these keys and have myself a little adventure. Love adventures!

Second thought: In this moment, my whole family seems settled and happy. Gosh, that's a fabulous feeling. My eldest son had his 30th birthday in the past week - a great party, just the way he wanted it - and I got to meet/meet up with all his closest friends.  It's fabulous to see how much he is loved and embraced, especially by his girlfriend's family. It was very good karma at that party and at dinner at home one night this week I could see that he had 'lifted'. He's happy.

My daughter has started her second year of teaching, a job she adores. She and her boyfriend have moved into their first house together. They adore one another; very, very connected. My third child has come right of his shell, sewing some wild oats now, fully immersed in a job he loves and so much more social and responsible; all good things. And, my youngest child, my baby, is doing just fine travelling around other countries with his mate. He's registered at his institution of choice and it's all good for him too - he's maturely fabulously.

Third thought: It's no co-incidence that once the family were fully ensconced in their lives that this automatically made way for my husband and me. We've been...happy...together lately, planning things and doing things and very much on the same page. Knowing I had to be out of the house by 10 am yesterday he woke me with some pampering and then a lovely breakfast on a tray in bed. It felt so...loving and tender. The kiss 'good morning' was sweet. We've watched the tennis most nights whilst partaking in a late dinner and although he's popped into his office to check his screens, it's been fine. It's been very...settled...around here this week in all these ways. My mother seemed much better yesterday and happy I agreed to go to a concert with her next week. This gives her something to look forward to and it makes me happy to make her happy. All these things are good. I love seeing the people in my life happy. That makes me happy.

Fourth thought: Schedules and routines begin next week. February brings with it routine, which I appreciate, but until January is done and dusted I'm loving the lack of routine. I'm sorting through the decade of paper on my desk, going through the storage space downstairs, sorting out and altering spaces. It's 'me and my house' time and I love that. I've a relationship with this house too, just as I do people.

Fifth thought: The 'power exchange' side of things hasn't been nearly so intact and yet it hasn't felt...bad. I've felt rebellious lately which I attribute to several factors, not least of which is the reading I've been doing; important articles that have opened my eyes to issues that may have led me down the path of considerable unhappiness in the past. I've been working privately and internally with confronting my fears, standing up for myself and being assertive, which, on the surface, looks like it doesn't meld well with accepting that I don't have any real control. Inside myself, I know there is progress going on, but I'm not ready to express that in words just yet.

I am pondering, however, if the Crystal Bowls Meditation that I did recently has indeed had an effect on me. I noticed I choked a bit during that meditation and thought that strange since that had never happened before, and was later told that the meditation was attuned to the throat chakra. Since the meditation it has felt that I have had to clear my throat several times and that's most unusual for me as well. The throat chakra is the chakra related to speaking one's truth. Speaking out has to be a bit of a shock for any dominant man used to talking to an agreeable, compliant bimbo who asks few questions about the reasons for and desired outcomes of her tasks, but the thoughts that have been held back are rising up and finding expression. Personally, I don't necessarily think that's a bad thing. I think it opens the door for a closer, stronger connection, but the jury is still out and I'm certainly not the judge in session.

I suppose you could say that bimbo took things waaaaay too far when she had a go at usurping control. I can't imagine what she was thinking (that this behaviour would end well? that she'd actually get away with it? that she wanted to get away with it??) except to say that sometimes bimbo doesn't look that far down the track...

I know this much. When push comes to shove...when all factors are considered...when we reach the bottom line...whether she's right or wrong...whether the grievance is handled in a way that is satisfying to her, or not...she's grateful that the dominance remains intact and that she is shown her place. This outcome is deeply satisfying to such an extent that she can bunker down into consequences. She doesn't have to like the consequences to respect them.

Here's the honest truth: Today (and admittedly probably not tomorrow...and the day after...and so forth) she's loving the freedom; revelling in the fact that she's a bimbo on the loose with a whole afternoon in front of her to frolic freely. Yes, she's taking the credit card with her but promises to be judicious with it. Wonder where bimbo can get a slice of gluten free orange cake...(PS Relax, that was a joke, she didn't go near cake. As if...!)

Stop the shit

It's been...eventful...and I barely know where to start. It's been about my emotions - the spilling over of them and the repercussions of them  - and it's been about intimacy through a shared dynamic, and it's been about accepting my own faults. It's been about so much that at the moment it's just a smattering of disjoint thoughts.

There is a recognition as well that you can't share what you can't put into words. If your perceptions and growth can't be expressed coherently, maybe you haven't quite reached the place where you need to go. Yet, I want to record something here and see where it goes, how it expands and grows in my mind. It feels like I have a palm full of seeds that could grow into a very good crop if I tend them well. Right now my thoughts are just separate seeds living right beside each other but not amounting to much until put into the ground and watered; left to mature and reach for sunlight. Still, I have the seeds. That's a start.

First of all, a situation occurred where I felt alienated. Experiencing a sense of alienation - whether true or just perceived in that light - shatters me. I know it shatters me and my mind protected me this time by telling me, first, that I wasn't troubled by it, and soon after that, it told me that I needed to stand up for myself. If memory serves me rightly only a few days before this event (perhaps seeing it coming and getting ready?) I pulled from my file the long article my psychologist had given me about 'The Subjugation Trap'. As I read it, it was blatantly obvious this time around that I fell firmly into the category of a subjugated person, potentially. The reason for this is that I wasn't assertive. I'd blended into people to keep the peace in many ways and according to the article I needed to learn to ask for things in a way where I was listened to. I needed to see myself as my own person.

I made notes. I began cue cards to keep me on track in my own mind. By God, this time I was going to get this right. When the time came to speak again my physiological responses weren't really under control but I wanted to talk. I decided to say as little as possible in the hope of staying in control of myself. But, in this power dynamic of mine there's always going to be a way to show me that I'm not the one in control and eventually I had to speak first. It came out as 'girl language', formal speech, an immediate and resounding red flag that I was upset and feisty.

I found myself making statements and asking questions in the most direct way ever that I can remember. This was, I'd agree, akin to waving a red flag at a bull and I'd say this conversation was as close to a 'fight' as we have ever had. (Still, I was proud of myself for making those statements!) I'd punched some accusations and statements over the net and he volleyed some others right back at me.

It's not usual for him to say all that much in one mouthful and as the words spewed out I could feel the bile rising. I was angry. As I do, I tried to settle myself. I was aware of my quickening breath and the tightness in my chest. I knew all too well that my brain was going haywire both with the messages being inputed but also with an emotional state now out of control.

I don't think I am what you want.

Yes, it is embarrassing now to look back and see how I played the feminine card. A little alienation on my part catapulted into the mix of words that had us both smashing balls with Exocet missile capability.


More was said, a good airing of grievances on both sides, but as we know in this dynamic, amongst people who have a tendency to be a bottom or a top, the Top prevails.  Thank God for that.

Stop the shit.
Bimbo was wrong.
Get back to pluggiz.
Talk later.

My anger has a beginning and an end. It burns out. It didn't burn out immediately but the next morning the thought began to occur that he had a point. I had deceived. I hadn't played by the rules. I hadn't just been deceiving him but I had been deceiving myself. My goals weren't achievable until I took responsibility myself  for my erroneous thinking about my strategy and stopped being slack, falling back into thinking traps of justifying my actions. He'd removed himself from the deal because the contract with him was broken and I did need to accept the fact that I'd erred. I had. It was my fault, looked at that way.


I always understood that if he knew every last piece of information about this subject that he'd correct, punish; insist. And, whilst I did the right thing about 98.5% of the time, I wasn't working to the rules laid out. I was achieving results, but not as fast I should have been. I know that.

This business of thinking of our arrangement as a contract - something that he emphasized - really challenged me. It was, somehow in my mind, taking two people with a range of emotions, strengths and weaknesses - human beings - and reducing that relationship to a commercial transaction. I found it galling and even insulting.

But as time has gone by I begin to see that there are concepts of a power exchange that I hadn't quite entirely understood related to the intimacy of the arrangement; another grievance of his at the time of the conversation that seemed so rich. By withholding all the information, by not being entirely honest, I'd denied the opportunity for intimacy that a power exchange dynamic provides. I don't necessarily mean sexual intimacy but the intimacy of two people sharing their lives; their frailties, their needs and their desires.

I'd failed to reveal myself and my weaknesses. I'd not revealed my failings for fear of abandonment (and thus was abandoned...). I'd made it impossible for him to do his work as he'd agreed to do. He'd removed himself from the arrangement because I'd made it clear that I wasn't willing to pay. I simply had not kept my bargain.

The whole experience - unpleasant as it was - had taught me something important, and rather than wanting to walk away from me, he'd seen it as his responsibility to me to pull me up. Maybe, he'd learned something else important about me too; that this fear of abandonment is not something that I can easily control; that it lives in my psyche and shows up without invitation. Fear has its own logic.

I'm not always easily dominated. I need relatively tight control. A partner needs to know that there will be times when it looks awfully like I want to throw in the towel. I don't. I am just hurting. I need someone who can withstand those moments, set me straight, and put me back in my place. I need someone who understands that I very much want to grow through this dynamic. I need someone to tell me to 'stop the shit'.

There's more to say, so much more. This is enough for today.

Love

It's the witching hour. I hover between my world of familiarity and the next. Truth reigns at this hour and I get close to my core. Feelings emerge, rise to the surface but they are not to be exposed to the glare of early light, not yet.

I kiss goodbye.  I hug him tight. And he hugs me back, a long hug. His pure heart is like a beacon of goodness shining ever wider in the world. Lucky world. I did good.

Goodbyes are tinged with sadness. Now alone, the tears flow. It's viscerally felt, the love of a mother. To send one's youngest child into the world alone, off in a big plane on a great adventure is a milestone of great weight. It's enormity can only be felt when alone. Now, alone.

I've never lost the wonder of getting on a big jet knowing that soon I'd be bang in the centre of a new culture. The world has more good than bad. It's all one big adventure. This was our final conversation over crumpets and honey whilst the rest of the neighbourhood continued to dream.

It's an inescapable fact of my life that so much of it has been lived in this house, or that house. I live here and my loves return to me here, and go there.

'I love you more than anyone loves their mother,' my eldest child wrote on my Christmas card, and although that's not possible, it expressed the love, as deep as the ocean, as wide as the river.

There is so much love in my heart. Right now I feel them all around me, those I love and even those I love who have gone to God. I know with certainty at this moment that I have been deeply loved for I feel this font of love extending out, reaching in. I feel the circle of life.

Rethinking roles

There is another way forward for me and that is to 'let go'. I've pined and ached for a more definitive power exchange with my husband because I've longed to feel that close to him. I've contradicted all the evidence that has been accumulating in front of me, which really makes no sense. It's very simple. He doesn't want a power exchange in the same way as me, and blind Freddy knows it takes two to tango.

He's not suited, and doesn't want, to supervise me; doesn't want to set any rules for me, remember them and follow up on them. To the contrary he encourages my independent, logical and responsible thought; taking on more responsibilities, challenges and opportunities. His heart sings when I take initiative. He's busy doing what he does and he is hopeful that whilst he is occupied that I will find delight and sustenance in my own pursuits. More than that he has lately wanted me to take over tasks and duties which were solely in his domain before. He just wants...help.

To be clear, he wouldn't be happy if I suddenly stopped telling him where I was going or what I was doing; communicating with him and liaising with him. But, he definitely does not want to involve himself in tasks such as what I wear, purchase or eat, when I go to bed and so on. I'm a grown up gal not short of smarts as far as he's concerned and I need to make sensible and careful choices myself. If I err, he'll soon tell me, trust me.

Eckhart Tolle, whom I greatly admire said, 'Sometimes letting go is an act of far greater power than defending or hanging on' and he's right. It's time to hang up my boots in terms of asking for and hoping for a situation that just can't and won't happen.

Somehow this 'letting go', embracing acceptance into my life has opened doors in my mind. Tuesday night has been deemed our night to go see a movie together, and I've had great fun this afternoon checking out holiday destinations and thinking through a fun vacation for the two of us in the near future. I've opened my mind to what I can achieve rather than worrying about what I simply can't achieve. I've accepted responsibility for myself in a number of areas going forward and feel a strange sort of pride in myself for this feeling growing inside me that I  am capable of achieving my goals on my own.

In terms of sexually erotic desires, well, I won't ever give up on them. I know what turns me on and the evidence is clear nothing has, or is likely to change. But, I've also been opening my mind to erotic desire in terms of what turns him on too. Nothing makes him more aroused than when he is immersed in the act of sexual domination, but at the same time he really does love it when I surprise him with an assertive act. I grabbed his cock recently and said something like, 'Isn't it time this was in me?' and it sprung to life. Later he told me that my aggression was very hot.

And, he is not without his ideas. He told me during a visit to an exhibition at the National Gallery on Sunday that he considered having me wear my corset and that was a fun idea. Perhaps I could suggest that he lace me into it when we next go out for dinner.

I adore it when he takes me by surprise and insists on his way. I go gooey at such moments and so very thoroughly enjoy melting into his care and dominance. But, I've spent far too many days seeing this as the only way to be thrilled. I very much want to be close; to have a loving and rich relationship. In many ways it is my role to orchestrate a happy future together. He's the boss and he's put me in charge of fun. It's time to do my duty.

The first step

There are advantages to being more 'aware' of the emotions within and encircling a person. As awareness grows so too does the ability to analyze what is going on in a logical way. Less than a week ago I asked my husband if he would be prepared to take some steps to make our marriage more of a formal power exchange dynamic. I saw this as a very positive first step to a potentially wonderful future together.

Whilst we don't have the perfect life in his eyes, since he hasn't experienced the level of financial success he would have liked to achieve by now, we have a good life, live in a great country and have a wonderful, close family. The setting and stage of our lives seemed right for taking this step towards a closer and more fulfilling personal relationship that I hoped would set us up nicely to be happy in an ongoing and everpresent way.

I wrote to him about this matter and I did it via email. To date, there is no response. These plans were put into action at a time when the future seemed so promising. He was relaxed having been on vacation at our holiday house. Although our time together wasn't as personally fulfilling as it could have been from my perspective since we were often surrounded by children in a house where noise travels, I was filled with hope.

We've been back in the city  only a few short days and the rot has set in. He has had several explosions of his emotions, unable to contain his distress and anxiety related to several issues that either spun out of his control or that frustrated him. He's been rude, a reaction to his internal distress at external factors, and although he usually offers an apology, it's distressing to me.

There is not a doubt in my mind that he would benefit by seeing a psychologist who could use some cognitive behaviour techniques to help him deal with this perturbation. I'd love to see him get some relief from these distressing feelings that he experiences, but also so that we can have a more mutually respectful and anxious-free environment at home, from where he mostly works.

I know to take care of myself in various ways, such as to find a quiet place in the house, or to leave the house and settle my own internal upset. But, this issue has been a constant throughout the marriage, only altering in intensity as befits his own internal stresses and the external environment; in other words, how life goes for him from minute to minute. 

I can train myself to be the perfectly submissive wife, to handle my own anxiety privately and to show him due care and consideration, but this does nothing in providing him with strategies to cope with his own anxiety. As his wife I am in no position to help him here. He needs a professional for that task, but unfortunately has resisted all my pleas over several years. He's a proud man, a stubborn man and he is in denial.

Since writing the letter the idea of a more formal and established power exchange dynamic with him seems less do-able and, frankly, less attractive. I don't think that you can have a power exchange dynamic with a person who assumes the dominant role but who exhibits anxiety quite regularly.  Can you? The anxiety ridden person is so preoccupied with his own distress, what has he left to offer his submissive? Of course, some dominants find playing with their submissive an instant remedy for anxious feelings, but unfortunately my husband is not one of them. He tends to want to brood over his concerns.

I think the first step has to be to fix the anxiety; for him to learn strategies as to how to soothe himself. If the anxiety can come under control he is better placed to live his life - his business life - in a state of control and positivism which can then allow him to take on the power dynamic with me formally, in a way that is achievable. In a state of high anxiety I don't think we can really make progression in achieving the kind of relationship that I seek.

Mindfucked

I used to read the entries of dominants who talked about denying permission for their girl to cum with a certain awe and wonder. 'Dom with Pen' on tumblr (now under another name I believe) is one example of a dominant who insisted that his girl ask for permission to cum each and every time they had sex. Whether his girl needed permission to touch herself, or if she even wanted to, I can't remember.

Right from the beginnings of my BDSM explorations orgasm denial was a concept I had trouble grasping for myself. I'd been masturbating since I was a very little girl and being denied this 'right' seemed simply impossible to me. My 'training' over the past few years didn't venture over this domain either. To the contrary there was plenty of encouragement that I masturbate and climax whenever it suited me. It was part and parcel of the sluttiness that aided the transformation and it was therefore encouraged, and later, required.

It's a deliciously counter-intuitive game, to my mind anyway, to be told that one must touch oneself so many times a day. Even when busy, there is a part of the brain that never really switches off from being aroused and it reminds the girl of her purpose of course. It is a deliciously devilish game to alter these rules too and take her transformation to the next step. The girl must masturbate consistently and regularly but not cum. Indeed, edging is the modus operandi, to bring oneself to the edge of climax but never spilling over to climax.

Oddly, given my difficulties with being told not to touch for extended periods of time, my mind took to these variations of orgasm control like a duck to water. Whilst I'd had a great deal of trouble with the concept of not touching at all, touching regularly without climaxing, was something that I could do just fine.

Mind you, 'drinks' were few and far between, but I quickly got the hang of the concept that to ask or to be petulant about my frustrations and desires didn't lead to success. I learned to just hang in and bide my time - to wait.

Honesty demands that I explain that if the decision to comply was left to just my mind, problems could have ensued. To edge and not cum, sometimes for weeks, would probably have been more than I could manage without slip ups. What amazed me was that my body was in complete alignment with the rules laid out. It was happy for me to touch, to edge to my heart's content, but cum without permission it out rightly refused to do. To touch regularly was a 'no brainer' really because my need was driving me routinely back to that preoccupation but, without permission to release, I was left hungry and anxious to do it all over again very soon later. I was like a dog chasing it's tail and going nowhere, but refusing to give up.

There was another challenge that I'd been given some time ago as well that had been put on the back burner for some time and very occasionally brought up. It's a serious and not at all easy challenge, but critical to ultimately determined outcomes.To my mind one of the most essential factors of an effective Dominant is that he can be unpredictable, and unpredictably these two challenges converged. Mention of the first task kept the expectation firmly in my mind without any immediate anticipation for achievement. When the matter would come up I would never know, but occasional reference to it reminded me that the challenge wasn't forgotten; would never be forgotten.


As I've explained, the command to cum - say, tomorrow - is poignant for me. It's my mind and my body that registers this as a rare one-time opportunity for release of my needy state. It's not an opportunity I like to waste. But now, that release, so awaited, was intimately intertwined with doing so whilst undertaking the first challenge.

I suspect that the knowledge of this situation, the 24 hour warning, was the factor that led me to obsess about what was to occur, such that when I found myself with some private time the next day I bolted to undertake the preparations. Whereas in the past there has been some resistance to complete the task this time I couldn't wait to begin. Hmm.

On some level I was conscious of the change in my affections towards this task, noticing myself as I careered into action. Somewhere deep in my mind some last remnant of 'girl' noted that she had been mind fucked to feel deep affection and excitement for a task for which she had previously performed with lacklustre. But, 'bimbo' just didn't care. She was having too much fun, getting her thrills whilst they were going, not at all concerned that she had been beguiled into feeling a deep affection for the object she was working with, wanting to get up close and personal, ever and ever more deeply close.

When a girl reaches this sort of orgasmic state, one orgasm is never going to be enough. Twenty four hours later, the body craves and demands more. Again, if left to the brain, the brain would win, but as per usual these days the body said 'I'm sorry but you don't have permission.' Just as well.

Happiness

Although so many of us live in abundance when compared with previous generations research suggests that this abundance has not meant that we are happier. This phenomenon has been researched in depth now and the findings are worth our attention.

It seems that about half of our state of happiness or unhappiness is 'set' or pre-wired. We have a set point of a state of happiness that we tend to return to, regardless of what happens in our lives, good or bad. So, the 'happy go lucky' personality or the 'depressive' personality is relatively stable from birth. What actually happens to us, our life circumstances, make up about 10% of the happiness quotient and the other 40% of the reasons for our  happiness quotient is under our control. In fact, happiness can be learned, just as we might learn to play a musical instrument.

Gratitude for what we have makes up  an important element of a sense of happiness, thinking about what we have rather than giving too much thought to what we don't have. This is a particularly fruitful thought since the difference in the possible happiness quotient between a person who earns $50,000 and a person who has $50 million is not significant. Being generous of spirit, according to the best research, is a more significant indicator of feeling happy.

In my late 50s now it has slowly become obvious to me that beauty isn't a particularly strong indicator of feeling happiness. As we grow older and less value is put on external appearances we see so many examples of people who are content within themselves. A documentary on happiness that I saw over the Christmas break told the story of a beautiful American woman, a mother of three children in a good marriage who lost her beauty in an horrific accident. She explained that she is happier now, more settled and at peace than she ever was before the accident.

Of course, she went through a nightmarish time, nearly died and had to endure endless procedures to her face, but her new partner (the husband divorced her) tells her how beautiful she is now and together they lead a very peaceful, spiritual life. In writing this I am reminded of the man in the documentary that made the point that there is no pleasure without pain, and it is worth remembering that sometimes we have to experience the darkness if we want to reach the light.

Of course, it is harder to age peacefully and contentedly if one is not well and there is no denying that good health plays into a sense of happiness. Studies of Okinawans and the Denmark model demonstrate that there are factors within our control and to which we should heed. Eating lightly and  healthily, getting enough sleep, staying connected with people, family structures, a good health care and government supported educational system can all play into a sense of fulfilment, peace and happiness.

Personally, I get a huge boost to my happiness when I am living as I was meant to live, in a way that is right for me. There is no doubting that I do best with an authority figure in my life and in the past few days, as I have been driving along country roads on my own I've given thought to this fact. When there is a clear authority figure in my life, someone to whom I am accountable, my flow of emotions is much more smooth and regulated. I guess you could say that with a clear authority figure in my life I am much more happy.

Yes, when and if I am disciplined, that's a time when I might 'buck up' but I'm not less happy really. I'm just mad in the moment that I behaved in a way that means that the discipline is necessary. I'm no less happy with the arrangement, once I work through my energetic emotions. In essence my energetic emotions are bashing up against the this very strong immovable 'wall' and this keeps me centred and content.

Of course, there are times when I need to be that 'wall' as well, to allow my husband's emotions to wash over me and for them to be cleansed with my understanding of his distress. Just before I left on a sojourn he was bothered by a little exchange of words with someone at the gas station (petrol station here) and I listened and then quietly said, "don't let it upset your day, just let it go". This is a very normal and regular part of my life, but I'm very grateful for the times when he steps up to be my authority figure. I feel a tremendous sense of peace and tranquillity in my soul when I can share this dynamic, as I have with my mentor for a number of years now.

As trite as it sounds, happiness comes into your life if you want it enough. It's a decision one makes, I believe, to be more happy. It's a wonderfully democratic concept, anti-consumerist in principle, that we can all be happy regardless of wealth, the circumstances of our lives or our physical presence. I get the sense that the world is becoming ready to hear this message and that we are starting to move away from the thought that possessions can make us happy. It's a good thing.

Fantasy and life

My husband and I were exchanging thoughts recently about fantasies and I made the comment that sometimes fantasies were merely fantasies. I didn't necessarily want for all my fantasies to become my reality. He disagreed. He felt that sexual fantasies were dormant desires. We didn't say much more than this, but I have been quietly thinking about the conversation ever since.

My fantasies have a theme about them. I don't fantasize about a renovated house, a trip around the world, or a romantic dinner,  but I routinely fantasize about finding myself in very strict, tightly controlled situations. I'm either at some sort of institution where I've been sent, not so much to procure an education and have a career, but rather to understand my place as an owned (but precious) possession, or, under the control of an extremely strict man who has the support of a housekeeper whose main task it is to supervise me when he is busy. Let's deal with the institution today. There are many rules at this institution but they all boil down to one rule in essence: that I obey.

There is absolutely no leniency at this institution and what I find interesting (and just realized this very moment) is that there is a dress code. Like the other girls sent there I wear the same style dress every day, one that accentuates the figure and provides ready access, but certainly fashion trends are not part of our lives here and we don't spend any time at all in wondering how to dress.

We are kept in a state of arousal. Anal plugs are a part of most of the day and all of the night and when we shower, or go to bed, or eat...all of this is pre-ordained and set in stone, except in highly exceptional situations. Owner tags are pierced through our nipples and pussy lips early on and a chastity belt is ordered for each one of us as an important part of our limited wardrobe. We are never to touch ourselves without permission, we are told. Rather, what we must appreciate is that we are there to adapt to the headspace that our satisfaction is immaterial and quite secondary to the pleasure of our Owners. This is the purpose of the chastity belts, for us to understand and accept our containment and purpose.

Corporal discipline is an integral part of our experience there - punishment for the slightest misbehaviour and routine maintenance paddlings and whippings. The whistle of the wind as the cane bears down on bare bottoms is a regular sound to our ears as we pass the master's study on our way to another part of the large house, discreetly tucked away behind high brick walls and surrounded by a lush garden. We fear the Master's cane without a shadow of a doubt and do all we can to avoid it, but meetings with it are so inevitable that we go close to making our peace with it. Pain is our lot.

If I am looking to arouse myself, not necessarily even orgasm, but simply 'edge' or let time stand still for ten minutes, I go to these particular thoughts. They centre me, relax me and, of course, arouse me. But, it's a big stretch to say that I would like to have them acted out. It's the harshest of institutions where my every move is observed and determined. I have no privacy there at all. Even showers are nearly always taken as a group in a bathroom with mutiple shower heads and the Mistress remains to observe this, inspecting us for cleanliness when we step out of the shower, inserting our anal plugs that we will wear throughout the night. Naked we will kneel by our beds to say our prayers and the Master will come to hear these prayers where we offer our good wishes to our authority figures at the school and thank God that they will guide us well. I can't begin to imagine such a situation in real life, the relentless discipline and rule following.

Maybe, the fantasy is simply the extreme scenario of a real life situation where I am indeed subject to some rules determined by an authority figure; where there is no breaking of rules without punishment, and where my joy and happiness comes through an understanding of my place; a place which is secure, a life which is relatively simple - challenging in ways but deeply spiritual and restful to the mind.

Truthfully, I still think of an intense orgasm as the happiest of experiences, the experience that feels to me very close to Godliness; the experience that lifts my spirits like nothing else can. But, my experiences have been such that I have been more willing to entertain the notion that this isn't my right at all, but rather a treat that I am given on rare occasions at the behest of an Owner; the owner of my body and my spirit. Truthfully, it's a huge surprise to me that I could think this thought at all, but if fantasies are a guide, there is no doubting the fact that I get off on the thought of containment in all its manifestations.