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.
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.
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