Restraint and service

There is a lot happening when I sleep. Rare is the night when I sleep like a baby, blissfully unaware of my self; awakening from a state of nothingness. I absolutely love it when it happens, usually when  I am desperate for an eight hour sleep, but on a day by day basis it is not meant to be.

The night before last my husband tied my wrists together and my ankles as well. I loved every moment of it but I suspect the minutes I was fast asleep and unaware of the ropes were few. I tossed and turned looking for the best position, eventually deciding that lying on my back was the way to go. By early morning I was conscious of the fact that my hands were in the prayer position, palms face to face, and the soles of my feet were also together with my knees spread. I was aware of thinking how marvellous I thought this new position; a sort of meditative position on one's back. I could feel my sexuality simmering away; like I was a slow cooker.

At times like this, my mind turns to chastity belts. I imagine what it must be like to be told one cannot touch oneself, or to be shown that one has no hope of touching oneself by being put into a chastity belt. In my thoughts I can take this several steps further by imagining that I'm under the control of people whose business it is to train me to accept these constraints on my liberty. Constraining my sexual liberties in reality is something I can't really come to terms with but in the night I often go to the thought; almost as if it were the last frontier for me; the constraint that  I must endure because I can't endure it.

My sexuality was given free reign later that same morning although my liberty was still in question: holes filled and gagged, eyes covered, hands tied to bed posts. That evening, I constrained myself in my usual way expecting that the plug would co-operate and leave me to sleep. But, it was not to be. My mind was too active, not with worry but with being taken and used in various ways; with men (and women, what's more) wanting to use paddles and canes on my rump. I squeezed and squeezed in the hope of settling the situation down, but in vain.

Eventually, and it's not a thing I do lightly because I like to imagine that I am in a chastity belt and have no choice over the matter at all, I woke myself up properly and went and removed the object causing me the sleeplessness. Almost immediately I think, I went into a deep sleep, waking only when  I heard the garage door open downstairs and registering that my daughter was leaving for school.

This notion in my mind of constraint and use sit side by side one another. I like the idea that I must show patience and forbearance and I like the idea that I am a waiting object. When the use takes place I like the idea that I am object designed for use and hungry for use.

Along with the interplay of restraint and use is the interplay of a mind filled with the desire for use (but the inability to do anything about it) and the mind that is emptied of all matters but sensations when use takes place. Whether I'm locked away in one fashion or another or abundantly used, it's all service (for me!). Shhhhhhhh.

Restraint

Somewhere in my reading last week, I read of one woman who was told that she may not touch herself for a week. She was doing remarkably well when on the sixth day she succumbed and had a most pleasurable orgasm. Her thinking was along the lines of, "I need this today. I'll worry about the consequences tomorrow."

Well, first of all, I think being told not to touch yourself for a week is asking a great deal so I give her full credit for lasting six days! Delayed gratification is something I can find difficult, although I also find difficult the consequences too really. I'm not fond of people being very cross with me and on more than one occasion I've berated myself for not just doing as I was asked. However, I can certainly empathize with the thought process that six out of seven ain't bad.

I've been sleeping on my own for the past week and my sleep has been quite disrupted because there has been too much opportunity to let my hands stray. On one night I considered tying my wrists together so that I could get a good night's rest. Fortunately, my husband returned home last evening and whilst I woke up in a similar way in the early morning I mentally acknowledged the desire but also mentally told myself that it was a darn good thing that I couldn't succumb to my desires. I folded my hands together as in prayer, a testament to my resolve, and duly went back to sleep for a couple of well needed hours of sleep.

There's a big part of me that very much likes the idea of orgasm control. Chastity belts come up in my thoughts regularly and I love photographs of a woman restrained into a chastity belt. I read once that a Dominant kept his submissive in a chastity belt (apart from cleaning and so on) for a six month period and that was not a dreadful thought for me; not at all. I feed off such thoughts.

I like the challenge of seven days without touching myself. I can't imagine my mind thinking of a darn thing other than my own desire for pleasure. Perhaps the need fades as time goes on. I very much doubt this myself. On the seventh day, I can imagine myself counting down the minutes. Maybe I'd get on with writing assignments and put pleasure out of my mind, or, maybe I wouldn't be able to write a thing so muddle-headed with the desire for pleasure I couldn't think straight.

Of course, the fact that I've been told that I can't have or do something is a truly enticing notion. I'd like to think I've progressed enough where the verbal instruction would be enough and I could exhibit restraint. On one level, it would be absolute torture but on another, deeply arousing. It would be an extraordinary act of grace to have my hands tied at bedtime and just give me a hand (by taking away my hands) but I do understand the idea is to use one's mind alone to show resolve sometimes.

When the woman in question told her Dominant of her transgression the whole time period started all over again. It lasted until they saw one another again which, I think, made it even a bit longer than seven days and I think she was starting to wonder if her life was truly worth living if orgasms were to be spaced out in this way. I so get that. On the other hand, what was he do? Well, I think he removed his Dominance from her, as I recall, and that's when the penny dropped. (Oh my, do I get this part...) She suddenly realized that delayed gratification was much, much easier than the removal of his services and I think it is this knowledge that allows her to move forward into this new time period of no touching.

I'm in a particularly desirous mindset; a desire to prove my mettle and to enjoy succeeding. I'm keen to get back in the hunt, out with pack and on with the game. I'm feeling decidedly playful and ready for challenge and I truly do think that I might be able to follow such a command, should be it ordered. I do little tests on myself, actually and I tell myself I can't do this or that for a couple of days and see what happens. Well, I can follow my own instructions with some degree of success but then again, I've never said to myself, "This time it is seven days" because I just couldn't do that to myself.

Bondage

Obviously and irrefutably, I enjoy the thought and the reality of all sorts of bondage and containment. But, one can take this another step. Imagine for a moment that I did not enjoy these thoughts so much, or to just consider one type of bondage imagine that I did not like the idea of wearing a chastity belt. It is not outside the realms of reality that the idea of wearing the belt is much more wonderful than the reality of wearing it. I doubt this, but it is possible.

So let's say for argument's sake that I don't like being put in a chastity belt, or let's say that I am ambivalent (does the word ambivalent really belong in the same sentence as the word 'chastity belt'?) So, let's say that I am not really getting a kick out of the restraint. I, personally, would rather that I were not in the belt.

Okay. So, is that it? It's a flop because I am not enjoying it. Or, is there something more to gain than my enjoyment?

I'm being objectified, actually. I'm being put in my place. The main purpose of the exercise is, perhaps, that I am being reminded that I'm really no different to a chair. I serve a purpose. The chair is for sitting on. I am meant for his physical pleasure. I belong to him. He owns me and what's more he can do what he wants with me. If he wants to bound me up and keep me that way until it pleases him to go get that key and release me, that's what he will do.

Here's the thing. It's not about me and what brings me pleasure. It is all about him. If I get pleasure from the containment, that's secondary; superfluous information; unintentional; irrelevant.

Except...that sort of thought plays on a woman's mind; follows her wherever she may go; has her lips upturned into a smile in situations that really don't call for such a sense of joy and pleasure. The thought of being an object, a sexual object at the behest of the man overtakes her and leaves her plans for the day in a crumpled mess on the floor. Her mind is mush. Strategic thinking is now impossible as naughty thoughts overtake her mind.

She is not meant to be enjoying herself. Except, she is.

Put away

It is the long weekend here and my husband is currently away. It seemed an ideal time to free myself of my need to experience control and I have wallowed in freedom - gone to bed when I wished, dressed when I wished, ate when I chose and just focused on me (and my boys).

It was interesting then, to wake this morning and discover that I had an urgent desire to write about something - anything - that would give me at least the illusion of being controlled. I felt absolutely exasperated that I was on my own with nothing but a pluggi to ground me to a sense of control!

The story was written in a little over an hour. It is the machinations of a kinky, submissive girl and perhaps only pleasurable to me. But, I put it here and if it should bring you pleasure too, then be my guest and have a read:

PUT AWAY

“Come and sit by me.”

She stood in front of him and with her eyes solicited further information.

“On the floor by my heel. Raise your skirt and part your cheeks; sit cross legged on the floor; palms down.”

She turned away from him and spread her cheeks so that he had a perfect view of her ass cunt, as she knew he wanted. She sat as instructed with her ass cheeks directly on the carpet. She felt pressure on the top of her head as he brought it forward so that all she could view were her own breasts. She heard him pick up the newspaper that he had put down on the table beside him when she had entered the room and then there was silence again.

She had no idea of how much time passed. There was no clock in her vision even if she dared sneak a peek but he was an avid reader and she never anticipated that this would be a short affair. Within several minutes she was aware of some discomfort as her legs became used to the position and as usual she found she had strong unrequited desires to move her hands to scratch an itch or adjust her hair. She spoke internally to herself regularly as a reminder to do only what he had told her. She wanted him to be pleased but on a practical level, she did not want to experience his displeasure.

At last, he put down the paper and his hands found her pert breasts. Her nipples were standing up for him since the room was a little cool for one so exposed. He tugged at the small rings in her nipples and the sensations went straight to her pussy cunt. There was nothing as predictable as her state after he had her wait for an hour or more; so close to him but untouched.

“Prepare for bed, darling.”

She raised herself off the floor and left the room. She took her shower and scrubbed herself clean; brushed her teeth. She applied her night time facial cream, rubbed a body moisturizer into her arms and legs and feet. He had yet to arrive. She sat on her wooden chair beside the bed and read on in her current novel, hoping that he would arrive soon. She longed to get under the covers.When she heard his feet on the floorboards in the hall outside she closed her book and put it down on her bedside table.

“Let’s inspect you.”

She immediately bent across the high bed. He had designed the bed himself and had it custom made so that she could be bent across it at the height of her hip. He spread her cheeks open and stretched her ass cunt as much as he could. He held it open like that for his own pleasure more than her embarrassment. This routine was common and she was used to it. He took a wet wipe from its packet and ensured that her ass cunt was scrupulously clean. Then, he opened her pussy cunt lips and breathed in her scent. He brought his hand to her pussy cunt and felt the slick surface; teased her bud with his tip of his thumb.

He had her stand and she raised her arms as soon as he indicated that she should do so; opened her mouth cunt when he touched her lips and stood still while he checked with a tissue that she had dried her ears.

“All scrubbed clean. That’s a good girl. Now, over the bed again.”

She tipped herself over the bed.

“Which hole would you prefer to be used?”

“The ass cunt, please.”

“Such a polite girl! If you wish.”

She was aware of him placing the rubber over his cock, a little lube on her ass cunt and he glided almost effortlessly into her. She let out a long sigh. She revelled in the luxury of having him inside her and feeling the fullness; no longer empty. But, he was hungry tonight and within moments he began to thrust, hard and fast. She grunted as his cock fucked her and with no restraints to hold her or a mouth gag to bite, she had no choice but to suck on the skin of the fleshy part of her arm near to her shoulder for some relief from his persistent grinding.

Without a word but with moans of pleasure he spurted wads of cum into her ass cunt until he was totally spent and lay down on her back. She was aware of his sweat and was grateful when he raised himself again and brought a tissue to wipe some of the cum away. He left her then and went to the bathroom and showered.

When he returned to her she first felt his hand lube her ass cunt and then she felt her night plug being placed into her. It was his way to fuck her with it – in and out, in and out – until with one deep push he inserted it into place. He had her stand and she moved to assist him as he put the chastity belt on her and locked her in.

“Time to be put away.”

He pulled the covers back. He watched her get into bed and settle herself on her side and place her palms together under her right facial cheek, as she was inclined to do. She may just have been fucked like a slut but now she was more like a little girl.

He bent over her, brought the covers up high and tucked her in; smoothed her hair and kissed her forehead.

“Good girl. Straight off to dreamland.”

He turned off the light and closed the door. He would work in his study now for at least an hour. Her pussy cunt throbbed but of course, touching herself had been rendered impossible. She squeezed as hard as she could but without his countdown, her orgasm eluded her and she gave up and drifted into sleep. What she dreamed is anybody’s guess.

Toyz

In sooooooo meni weyz, cindi alredy beri cuntaynd. She nut worri n she nut tinki ull dat much. She beri gud n beri wel behayvd. On da odd occashin she nut wel behayvd, but dis so beri unappreshe8d dat doz slipz beri rare now. She liki 2 pleez.

cindi liki fun tingz 2. It sertinlee seems 2 cindi dat doz peepel hoo wif cindi, njoy her cumpineee. Dey seem njoy da fakt dat she beri cumpliant n she do wat she told. Dey seem njoy her bubbli natoor n eben how silli she sumtymz aktz.

Cors, cindi nut alweyz abel 2 shine. Sumtymz she poot wey on da shelf n she haf wayt 4 da next tym dat sumwun wan pley wif her. Dis da lyf of da dolli. Dis parta her cuntaynmin.

4 doz peepel nut no so much bout dolliz, dey hab strung desyrz n dey desyr lotz n lotz of pleytym. Coz dey nut need tinki bout ull sortsa borin stuff, dey tinki mor bout fun tingz, n sex a beri fun ting 2 a dolli.

Der a new tot in cindiz lyf: dat it nut rite dat da dolli hab access 2 hessef.

"Wat talkin bout?" cindi wanna no. "Her bodi hab neeeeeeeedz...."

It tot it tym 4 bimbo 2 chenj: 2 "surrender".

"So bimbo hab no mor climaxzzzzzzz????!!!!"

"Oh dat nut da cays; jus nut wen she wun dem, n how she wun dem."

Cindi wanna no how dis werk. She beri cooooorius.

"Tinki bout it, ull pluggi, n den beltd, lokd, poot 2 bed den toy poot wey; yoosd l8r."

"Dat cood werk..."

"Bimbo got sins now how it toy?"

Oh ya, she got sins of how toy ull rite.

Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy!