Captivity

I can't trace exactly where I began a keen interest in living life in a contained way. My family ran a business and we lived on the property. This meant that 'home life' wasn't like the family life that most children experience. I suspect the roots of my interest lie somewhere in there.

When I met my husband I met Uncle Jack and that's where I learned about his time in Changi. I remember paying great interest to any information I could gather about his imprisonment through the war. Technically, he should have been killed because he was a bit outspoken back then and on at least one occasion a fellow prisoner had to save him from imminent death because he was on the cusp of  speaking back to a Japanese official.

What I was most impressed about was that he had the mental strength to endure the ordeal. Two years ago, we went to visit his wife (Jack was in a nursing home by then but his wife was still visiting him every second day and bringing him home - a Herculean feat for her too) and she gave my youngest son a copy of the speech that Jack had given, detailing his capture. Finally, we had the details because Jack wasn't one to sit us around and tell us things about his war experience. He'd rather play host to us and fill us with his well stocked liquor cabinet while his darling wife filled us with roast lamb and rice pudding for dessert.

I do recall a story about him being held in a very small space; a coffin, of sorts. And, I remember seeing this sort of captivity in a Western movie as well. I just couldn't imagine this sort of extreme experience. I didn't understand how someone could survive it.

Not so long after my last son was born, I was experiencing lots of pain in my lower back. One day it got so painful that I simply walked into the chiropractic office that I often passed in the car and asked if they could help me. Apparently, there was some arthritis sitting there at the base of my spine and they recommended Pilates to stretch me out and strengthen my core muscles to keep the lower back strong.

A friend saw me having a coffee up at the shops one day near to the Club we belong to and she asked me to sign a petition to have Pilates classes there. I happily signed, the classes began and I have been going there ever since, at least once a week in term time.

I was very interested to learn that Pilates was begun, it seems, by a person who was confined; imprisoned was the story I heard. He devised exercises he could do in a very small space to keep himself fit. There is something about exercising on a mat that really speaks to me. In the smallest possible space, I can work my whole body. Then, when the class is over, I can lie on the mat and listen to the soothing music that is played to us and let my mind drift away to nothingness. I just adore that time.

This is a time when it is not at all uncommon for me to imagine that 'doll' state. I imagine that all the 'holes' are plugged and that my mind is quite empty. It is a rather sexually oriented experience for me because it takes me to a sense of having my body used at the same time as I have a feeling of being at great peace. I blend the two experiences/thoughts into one. Sex = peace.

This is my mindset. In my earlier life, I'm not sure that I equated sex with peace. I do know that an intense sexual experience made me exuberantly happy with an ecstatic feeling of being alive. It is only in recent years that I have equated sex with a deep peace.

I know my husband would dearly love for me to take more responsibility for initiating sex. God knows I have tried but my very natural disposition is to be taken; to be captured. When I am taken and plundered, I process that as a deep peace. I sink down; bunker down. Maybe that relates to my thoughts all my life about containment. Maybe, my mentor hypnotized me over the chat box to believe these things. It is more likely, I suspect, that he brought out thoughts that were already there and that's why I took them like a duck to water.

My body looks to be used. My mind is always considering ways to live a small but wondrous life. Containment is my preoccupation.

Dirty, dark fantasies

I've been doing a yoga breathing workshop all week that requires me to get up each morning at least 2 hours earlier than I normally do. Since I can't go to bed all that much earlier than I usually do, I am running on a deficit of about 10 hours sleep for the week.  It all must sound like torture but I've really wanted to do this and I have had some outstanding bursts of energy and clear thinking along the way. Today, I mentioned it to my regular yoga teacher and she said she did the breathing for 6 months and kept a journal. Apparently, after a few weeks into the breathing she couldn't bear the smell of alcohol or sugar. Her body was insisting on all things clean.

I can't say that sort of effect has kicked in with me, although I haven't even contemplated a glass of wine this week. However, that's not all that unusual for me and just now I have had a few blocks of dark chocolate, my first sugar for the week after an afternoon nap. I'm not entirely pure yet. Quite the contrary has occurred, I am sorry to say.

What I have noticed is that the sexual thoughts are running amuck; very intense, constant and with no end. I fell asleep thinking them and I awoke thinking them. Fundamentally, it is like a pornographic channel running in my head and nobody can find the controller to turn it off. I hesitate to talk about them and yet I feel a need to expunge them somewhat. If I can't talk about them here, then where? I rather doubt the ancient yogis would approve. I don't think this is the sort of benefits they had in mind at all but it is what it is, and here it is...

I'm in a big room. It's quite grand: think Eyes Wide Shut and that's about right. We've been blindfolded, about a dozen of us. We're naked. We've been told to kneel with our legs under us, so that we can pout our backsides and present our holes. (The word present is an extraordinary turn on for me always.)  Of course, our breasts (the men in charge call them our titties) flop on the wooden floor and we are told to hold our mouth cunts open, as if ready to be fucked. We form a circle and that means that when the man who is looking for a plaything  comes to see us, he can see all the holes easily. There are mirrors all over the walls, you see. There is  no place to hide.

The man we know is showing us off, much as a man might show off his horse to a potential owner,  talking up our good points, encouraging the stranger to notice various aspects of our bodies; broad hips here, a wide ass there, a particularly slutty hole there, and the unknown man is inspecting us closely. He looks more than touches the merchandise but he has stopped by me and is asking the man a question. He wants to know what size anal plug I am using at this time. The man goes to a cupboard and produces a plug of the relevant size and this seems to prompt him to want to inspect more closely.

I can feel his slightly cold hands on my buttocks. (As he requested, we've all been well warmed with a leather paddle so any slight coldness was going to be noticed by any of us.) Now, he's stretching my buttocks apart to look at the slutty hole, running his hands over and in my pussy cunt as well. Modesty would like me to be able to say that my pride is incensed by this but it just wouldn't be the truth. I am wet with anticipation of what this man may do to me should he choose me and the touch of his fingers is divine. I am virtually organismic already.

He makes his decision abruptly and within a moment I am hoisted onto a bench and told to rest in the same way as on the floor; kneeling with my legs under me and all holes accessible. Quickly and firmly I am tied to the bench so that any hope I might have of escaping is completely gone. (As if I would...)

The bench is the perfect height so that when the man releases his cock from his pants it can be easily and immediately placed at the entrance of my ass cunt. (The men use these words repeatedly.) As I feel his cock about to penetrate me he reminds me that I an nothing more than his play thing; his toy; just a hole. If this is meant to insult me or incense me, the ploy has backfired because I don't feel any disagreement in my mind. That is indeed what I am. I've been trained to know my purpose.

He enters me and I gasp with shock. He pulls out of me repeatedly only to thrust again and eventually he rhythmically fucks me, seemingly fucking deeper and deeper into my hole. With each thrust my mind and my body is disappearing into a space; a deep, dark hole of pleasure. The sensations are primal; earthy. I feel that my pussy cunt has expanded to be three times it size and from where the orgasms come it is hard to detect. Is it felt in the ass cunt or the pussy cunt or is the overwhelming pleasure coming from a place and a space so unidentifiable that I  no longer exist and have been carried away to some sort of orgasmic heavenly bliss?

My loud moans and groans are no longer wanted and it seems that the man riding me has asked the other man to fill my mouth cunt with his cock to keep me quiet. I accept the gift of his cock with lusty acceptance and I can only hope that this attention will go on and on; that they will not tire or desire to climax too soon.

Eventually, they must and do. I feel the cum filling my two holes and it fills me with satisfaction. This is, after all, the purpose of the two holes. (Here comes the squirmish part...) One of the men retrieve from the cupboard a jug and my ass cunt is milked of cum, leaving enough inside so that when they fill it with a large plug the rest of the cum will leak down my legs for the rest of the evening. (Our training has demanded that our holes are always scrupulously clean and now I understand why this is so.)

I am untied and made to sit on the hard, wooden stool and to place my hands behind my head. Of course, this leaves my breasts free to be tortured and nasty, tight nipple clips now bite at my nipples. It is just more containment for the plaything. It bites to be sure but there is pleasure in the pain; their devilment is her aphrodisiac. (I'm no longer an I. I'm just she at best; more like it, in fact.)

Just as she is about to pass out in a dreamy sort of head space that is unquantifiable they remove the clips. She screams and her mouth is immediately covered with a man's big hand until the desire to scream passes and she is passive; still. The stranger pats her on the head and tells that she has been a good fuck toy, a very pleasurable doll. She has done well. "Good doll," he coos.

This is enough for her. (Who, in fact, is using who here...?). She is returned to the circle and content in her child pose again, she drifts into a near slumber, eternally grateful that to day it was her turn to be used.

Notz frum holidey

cindi habbin fun tym trabelin rown. She bin 2 Hyde Park n she bin owt 2 Windsor Castle. She ebin wen 2 da Evensong at St. George's Chapel where she sit rite next 2 da boyz in da choir. Dat lotsa fun 4 cindi!

It a beri gud ting dat onnir approoovz ob dortaz boyfrend. He def got da seel appproooovel. Phew! So, cindi n onnir hab sum beri nys meeelz wif dem.

It seemz dat onnir tink dat cindi bit fysti l8li n so dis mornin he sed dat cindi needd sum treetmin. She hab ull da hoz filld n onnir fors her hab lotsa lotsa orgazmz until she beggin, "Pleeeeez, pleeeeez, dat nuf!" But, onnir tinki dat cindi needz unnerstan dat she nut da wun in charj n dat she jus objekt hoo neeedz akept wut she gibben. Dat wat he sed.

Ob ull da tingz onnir pak in his sootcase da oddist ting dat he pak da woodin herbrush n he yoos dat on cindi. "No cumplaynin, cindi," he sey.

Neweyz, tinki dat dis ull beri gud 4 cindi ashooooli. She feelz beri settld n in her ownd plays, n dat alweyz a gud ting. No mattr how far from home, toyz alweyz toyz, rite?

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.

SEX

So, what it is all about, folks? Well, there are a number of factors but very high on the list is great sex. And, why is sex so important? I can't speak for you. I can only speak for me. It fills me with 'feel good' endorphins. It makes me feel that all is right in my world. It makes me glow. It makes my eyes bright and my lips form a smile and it makes me feel warm and tender to all that I meet in my path through life. It weaves its spell over me for at least 24 hours.

I feel completely alive.
I feel a woman.
I luxuriate in my femininity.

And, I think how I might engineer it that we can do it all over again, at the earliest opportunity!

Enlightenment

One of the challenges of being a parent is to accept that your children are not little miniatures of yourself; that any child you produce for the world may be very much like you or not like you at all. All my four children are very unique beings, quite different to one another in most ways except to say that they are all good people and all quite soft and caring sort of people.

Their upbringing is very different to mine and of course, the world has moved on since I was growing up and being, say, 23 years old now is rather different to being 23 years old 25 years ago, I think. What people of that age want out of life could well be vastly different than what we wanted back then at that age. Contemporary culture and childhood experiences are going to shape us in ways we don't quite know and the challenge is not to judge and to understand that we all have our separate journeys through life; that no one can really hurry someone along; that maturity and knowledge and wisdom and fulfilment will come when the time is ready. As my boss used to say when I wouldn't heed his advice, "I guess you have to make your own mistakes."

One of the experiences I knew I wanted to have in London was to go to a Church service at Westminster Abbey. I was happy to go alone but my daughter insisted she was happy to come along. Plans with young people change minute by minute I find, and Saturday evening had her having drinks with a man friend whilst Sunday morning found them both hung over. Nevertheless, both of them agreed to come along and so off we went to Westminster Abbey.

I love churches. Something happens to me when I walk into any church, but to walk into Westminster after a period of 30 years since I have last been there was truly profound. It is such a beautiful church and the service this morning which focused on the death of Christ was a very beautiful one with a great deal of divine choral singing. The sound emanating through the Cathedral was so intensely beautiful that I found tears pouring down my face. I was deeply moved to hear such beauty amongst the splendour of the Abbey. It was one of those moments when you feel very close to your maker and when the reason for being here on this earth seems very clear. It was a coming together of the person from my past and the person who I am now - both of those people always in search of beauty, of grace and of deep meaning but in somewhat different ways.

It saddened me then and it saddens me now as I write to recognize that my daughter got so little out of the experience. Yet, I could be wrong about that. Perhaps one day on reflection it will mean a great deal - one day when she is ready to look at life with a bit more contemplative thought. I guess you would be right if you thought that I was missing my husband at that moment. He would have adored the Abbey and the service and completely understood my tears and my sense of being overwhelmed by the spectacular beauty.

Since I was often alone as a child, my world was of my own making and perhaps it is the reason why I have a strong and vivid inner life. My imagination always keeps me company. I read a lot and I have a hunger to see the places I have read about. It is why I find such wonder in being in London. Perhaps, it is why I can enter into the world of cindi with such ease and why I embrace her so completely. I see nothing wrong with, and never have, creating alternate realities. I've read on other peoples' blogs comments about that recently and of course I agree that it is entirely healthy to radiate in the pleasure and relaxation of creating an alternate experience other than just the "real world".

Yet as much as I can relate to creating alternate realities (my eldest son had two imaginary friends that we refer to to this day), I seek much more. Constantly, I await those rare but very precious moments when I may be transported higher; lifted spiritually off the ground and into the space of mind that can only be described as "the divine". I wait and wait for those moments and when they come, I feel a radiance and a sense of being filled with purity that is like no other feeling in the world. Sometimes, every so often, my submissive response takes me to that spiritual lightness of being. I was most certainly there today in the Abbey.

If I could give my daughter, my sons but one gift in life it would be to experience the sense of completeness that I felt today and that I have experienced in moments of submission and love. Whether they will ever know what I know, I cannot say. Perhaps it is not my job to be concerned about this and on their own personal journeys through life they will come to know things that I will never know. Such is life. I continue to hope that they may experience moments of being transported to a higher realm as I am just as I wish it for you; for everyone. My goodness, but it radiates beauty up there!

Bimboz dey dreem: part 2

Wun mornin daffi wokiz n she asoomd dat soon wun of da men wood cum long as yoozuel n poot in her pluggi. But, 2dey a speshel dey, dey tol her, n 2dey she nut wer her pluggi. Dey tel her dat durin 2 dey, she shood jus relax - reed da paper, or a book, mebbe walkiz in da garden; whatever she wans. 2nite da bimboz inishi8shun in2 bimbohood, dey sed 2 her. Daffi littel apprehensif but also beri xsitd! Her ownir told her dat wen she haf her inishi8shun, she unnderstan mor bout her troo nashur, n nut fite agenst it eni mor. Daffi waytin 4 dis dey 4 lung tym!

L8 in da aftanoon, da men tel da udder gurlz 2 prepar daffy. Dey bathe her kerfoooli, n maki up her fays n her herr beri prettili. Dey poot on her wot da men tell dem - just her stey up stockinz, a pretti colla on her nek, sum high heelz n a mask ova her fays.

Wen dey finish dey sey 'bye bye' 2 daffi n she sit in a cher in da loveli drawin room n wayt. Of cors, nut onli daffi xsitd but beri arowsd. She nut no wat 2 happen 2 her xactli but sittin der on da luveli comfi cher wif no garmen over her bottom, she bcum most arowsd. She awar of da goosebumpz da form on her skin and da wey dat her nipplz so hard. But, she weyt lung tym it seemz 2 her n she start 2 drift in2 sleepiz.

Quite unexpectedli, wun of da men, also wif mask over his fays cum to get her and he attach a leed to daffy's pretti collar. He leed her down da hall in2 a bootiful room where she c 2 udder men wif maskz. Da lite beri dim so nut reeli no hoo doz men.

Da man dat leed daffi talkiz wif her. He tel her dat she beri gud bimbo n she close 2 gradu8shun n goin home 2 her onnir. She onli need akt naturel here 2 nite. She 2 do wot cumz naturalli n dey observ her n c if she ken let her bimbo hart run free or nut. If nut, der bit mor traynin. She nut 2 worri eida way.

Den, da man hoo haf her leed, takiz her 2 a loveli antik wooden bench n dey aski her 2 bend ova da bench. Soon, ull da men touchiz her - her her, n her bak, n bottom; her legs, n feet, liftin up wun at a tym; den her pussi cunt. Dey talkiz mongst demselvz dat she alredi satur8d down der; such a gud bimbo! Dey tel her dat 4 speshel treet she yoosd beri well 2 nite: all her cuntz yoosd well.

Daffi alredi in sum udder plays in her myn. Da tuchin of her bodi n da tot of wot dey do fill her wif lust n she beri relaxd. Momentz l8r, daffi feel fingerz tuchin her asscunt, n spredn her cheekz, n den she feel a hoooj cocki filln her cunt. She beri well traynd n dis nut hert her at ull. In fakt, da cocki feelz wunderfool 2 her n she begin 2 cum.

"Such a gud slut," she heer wun of da men sey.

Da man insyd her reeli njoyin da experiens n afta few minutz he cum insyd her, fillin her ass cunt wif lotsa cum. Immedi8li afta dat, she feel a big pluggi poot in2 her ass, n she told dat slowli da cum wood leek owt of her ass cunt n down her legz. Dis tot nut seem 2 worri daffi et ull. Gin, da men tuchi her bodi n it obvius she beri, beri arowsd. Dey feel her titiz n da feelin sens8shnel 2 her. Sum tym goz by; she not no how lun. She in spays.

Now, a man, she nut no hoo, wanna taki her pussicunt n he cum behin her n enter her. Da pooshin on her pluggi n da cocki in her pussy cunt combine 2 gif her orgasmz liki she neva had b4 in her lyf, n involuntarili she start 2 maki noysez. She sown liki a cow, eben 2 her eerz.

Daffi begin 2 stick owt her tung, as if she lookin 4 sumtin, n she start2 chew 2, desperet 4 sumtin 2 fil her last hole. Da men taki mersi on daffi n wun man poot into her mofcunt a larg cockigag dat fil her mofcunt n whyl she experiensin lung n deep orgasmz she sucki, sucki, sucki on da gag. She troo fucktoy.

Daffiz myd empti. She tink nuthin. She is in a spays n a plays in her myd wher she free flotin. Her myd compleetli peeceful. She nut a gurl. She nut a hoo. She a wat. She jus objekt: totalli peesefool n happi.

Eventualli, wen daffi completeeli satisfyd n spent, da man in her pussy cunt cum insyd her, n collaps on her bak. She feelz a litenes of bein but der a momen of sadness 4 daffi bcoz she wish dat she haf dis moment wif her onnir. She a troo bimbo now n she wish her onnir der 2 prayz her n luv her.

Da man on her bak begin 2 recover n he start 2 cuddel daffi n hold her tite. She notis dat da man's hans liki her onnirz hans. Den, she heer him sey,

"My darlin daffi, finalli u akept yor troo natoor. Yor onnir sooooo beri prowd!"

It her onnir ull dis tym! Da cocki in her ass cunt n in her pussy cunt da cocki of her onnir ull lung.

Daffiz hart fill wif luv n happiness. How hevenli dat dis inisi8shun happen wif him!

Soon, daffi taken 2 cleen her bodi, n 2getha she n her onnir sher a delishus suppa. Dey sleepiz da nite 2getha in a speshel room n da next mornin dey sey der bye byz 2 da udder bimboz n 2 da men, n dey go home 2getha.

Daffi n her onnir live happili eva afta 2getha. daffi no now 4 sur she bimbo n she lif accordin 2 her troo natur. She threw wey da gurl mask 4 gud 4 now she free. She bimbo.

State of mind

Dolliz luv the color 'pink! They luv pink nailpolish n pink lipstick, n pink blush, n pink clothes. The color 'pink' maki dem feel so happi, n girlie, n bubbli.

Sumtimes, dolliz ken feel so happi in der heart dat no matta wot the werld looki liki, all dey c is pink. It so pretti from da dolliz poynt of voo.

So, herez a littel glimpse in2 da head of a real live dolli in her happi plays wen her werld is simply...pink!

Njoy!

Seize the day

I happened to have the radio on in my bedroom recently as I was tidying the room up and I heard part of an interview of a man who was some sort of theologian. He came across to me as a learned and deep thinking sort of person, and perhaps too, it was his voice that pulled me in.

The interviewer asked, "So, why are we here (on earth)?"

The theologian said, "We are here for two reasons. We are here to be of help to others and we are here to find out about our self. Neither one is more important than the other." (or very similar words)

He had my complete attention. All these years, I had thought, that the right answer was that we are here to do good. Pure and simple. Every time that I took time out for myself in the past, I have felt a little guilty. Perhaps, I could do something for one of the children or be offering my assistance in some other capacity. It just didn't feel right often to go off and do something about finding out about myself. In any case, there were years and years of chasing my tail, just trying extra hard to keep up with the workload.

About three years ago, I could no longer contain my curiosity to know about myself and I began my explorations into my heart, my mind and my soul. It began with lust and then it broadened out into all my feelings; about being a woman, about being half of a relationship, and about what brought me the strongest sense of completeness.

I discovered that when you take that time out for yourself, you heal yourself and as you heal yourself, you have more to give back. It is very intoxicating, this voyage of discovery and one has to be aware of the way that it sucks up time. It is so deeply satisfying to truly know oneself that one can't stop until every last crumb of information is gathered, dissected and understood. Even then, the desire is to become a "better girl", and then the wonderful journey continues on.

Since I have felt quite indolent at times, taking this time out for myself, the theologian's words were music to my ears. It was perfectly all right to do both activities in this life and I was not short-changing anybody.

In my case, much of the journey has been expressed as words on paper; here, in diaries, in stories, and in exchanges on email and chat.

We each have our own very personal story to discover and to tell. I'm as intrigued in your story as I am in any other story. The beauty of growing older is that we can look back and begin to make sense of the journey so far and to know better where we have left to go and what might be best for us and those we love.

Each new day has a new beginning. Each new blank screen or piece of paper offers us an opportunity to express ourselves.

Seize the day!