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.

The report

She was at her desk in the open office at the newspaper. She was surrounded by people about her; working at desks near by, and walking past her desk. Her phone rang.

"Lucille, listen carefully."

She immediately sat up straight, as if he could see her, although, of course, he could not. Her attention was immediately focused on the voice at the other end of the telephone. No other person or event in that big room was of the least concern to her any longer.

"Yes Sir. I am listening."

"As soon as I have finished talking to you and you have put down the telephone, I want you to go to the bathroom. I want you to feel yourself and I want a full report of the status of your cunt. Email the report to me at the earliest opportunity. Understand?"

"Yes Sir."

"Good girl. Off you go."

"Yes Sir."

Lucille put down the receiver. With a quick glance left and right, to assure herself that no one could possibly guess the content of the telephone call, or what she was about to do, Lucille walked to the bathroom. She could not resist smiling and she put her head down, for she feared that if she kept her head up people might suspect that her smile was one of a slutty sort of girl. Demurely dressed as she was, sweet natured and softly spoken, people in the office would consider her the most unlikely of sluts. She wanted to keep it that way.

She opened a bathroom door and closed it again. In the privacy of that little space, she pulled down her panties. It was summer and she was not wearing any stockings. She put her fingers down to her cunt, opening her legs a little to feel all round; every side.

Down there, she discovered a pool of juices. Every part of her cunt was wet and she was open; quite available for immediate taking. If she had not been before her call, she certainly was wet now. She allowed her fingers to travel up a little further and she enjoyed the fact that she had opened, much like the petals of a flower. She allowed herself a moment or two to imagine that it was his fingers penetrating her.

She imagined the look on his face as he brought his fingers to under his nose to enjoy the scent of the nectar. And, she imagined him bringing those fingers to her lips and having her suck the juices. She closed her eyes and lingered for as long as she dared with the thought of what might come next. She imagined him undressing her and positioning her and taking her.

She considered touching her clitoris. Her index finger grazed across it as her other fingers held open her labia. She was sorely tempted to rub herself. She considered it for a moment until she remembered that he would ask so many specific questions. He would, almost assuredly, want to know if she had stimulated herself. It was not worth the risk, being the useless liar that she was, and she let the thought go.

She was brought back to the moment when she heard another toilet flush. She remembered where she was and what she had to do. She pulled her panties back in place and she proceeded back to her desk, not even taking the time to wash her hands. She knew he would be waiting for mail.

She pressed compose and began:

"My dear Sir,

My cunt is very wet and open, and awaits you with much expectation..."