I can't remember the first time I dreamt of submitting to someone, nor can I recall any experience that might have precipitated that dream. That dream has followed me around: I just haven't been able to make it come true. I recall the first time I read that knights in the Middle Ages used to lock their ladies in chastity belts whenever they left for the Crusades (whatever Crusades were). Later I found out what Crusades were and that the story about the chastity belts was pretty well nonsense. At the time, though, I imagined I was one of those ladies who, with her heart thumping and her breasts heaving, gave her knight the key, and with it her own self. I just never reflected on why I had this particular fantasy. In fact I never took account of why I had certain very specific fantasies, and I avoided thinking about whether mine were any different from those of most other people.
When I first met the man with whom I still am even now, I loved telling him "I belong to you", or "I'm yours". A shiver went down my back whenever I said those words. I suspect, though, that many women, and even men, say such words to their lovers.
I dared not tell him what I thought about when I masturbated for fear it might destroy our relationship. I wasn't worried that he might not understand, or that he would be shocked, but rather that he might take me up on it. Then we'd end up in a situation from which we couldn't find our way out even if we wanted. And so it went for a while.
Somewhere along the line my lover asked me if he could fuck me in the rear. As far as I know, this is a request that quite a few men put to their girlfriends at some point. He couldn't know that one of my fantasies included a strict master who wouldn't permit me playing with myself. This master had locked me in a chastity belt. He got his own satisfaction when it pleased him by fucking me in the ass: I wouldn't be able to come, but his own needs were always satisfied.
I, however, had never really had anal intercourse, and when my lover went at it for the first time, I fainted as he tried to penetrate me. When I came to - I was really out for a only a moment and at first my friend hadn't even noticed - we ended up making love the usual way. Yet I felt ashamed. I fabricated scenes in my imagination that I really couldn't take in reality. Far from it: to let myself be penetrated only from behind and to be denied any orgasm, as a symbol of my submission, was something I couldn't even let my lover do one single time. I had to shake myself back to the reality that if I were to confide my fantasies to my friend, and were he to acquiesce in them (which was improbable enough), I'd be a rather poor and capricious slave. My dreams of giving myself over to him totally would simply be rather unrealistic.
In "The Story of O" I had read that a man systematically opened the anus of a woman by inserting a plug whose size was increased bit by bit. I told my friend about this some days later. According to him, it was rather a question of not tightening up: that I should loosen up that muscle. I told him that I'd gladly give myself to him in any way that might please him, even this way, as long as he was patient with me. I came to realize that he really liked fucking me in the ass, so I practised being relaxed and open. In the meantime he spent evenings and afternoons with his fingers or other objects in my rear. Then we tried again: when he was completely inside me, I thought I'd die, although I didn't faint this time. He told me that he really enjoyed it and wanted to know what it was like for me. I told him that I hadn't come and that it hurt hellishly. It had been the most marvellous fuck of my life, but that I didn't lay any store in repeating the experience right away. I was dripping wet between my legs and we went about making love the usual way. I felt I was floating about in Heaven even though my ass still hurt.
Then he wanted to know why I liked it so much when it hurt so. I tried to explain to him that I felt I wanted to give myself to him totally and to belong to him even more than ever before. He asked me if I enjoyed when he hurt me. Since he had never directly asked me anything like that before and I had never spoken with him about, I never had to lie to him. Now, though, I had to tell him the truth or tell him a lie.
"Yes," I said, "but I don't want you to whip me."
"If you don't want me to, then I'll never whip you," he answered, and I fell asleep in his arms.
The next day he was very curious and asked me all sorts of things. In reply to his questions I gave him an idea of my dreams and fantasies: the thought excited me of being his slave, his property, with no rights. But I was also afraid that these kinds of games could endanger our relationship. When I was horny, I wanted to be his property, but when I wasn't, I most definitely didn't. Then I just wanted to belong to myself. But in my fantasies I didn't imagine first and foremost that he wanted to do any specific thing with me. Rather, I imagined above all that I was his property and he could do with me what he wanted when he wanted. If we had agreed on a time, say, Thursdays from eight to ten, when we could do a scene where I was his slave and he my master, I wouldn't have had a clue what to do during those hours. I did not want him to whip me or anything of the sort; my dreams were about my being his property in our daily lives.
He listened to me patiently and then suggested I be his slave for a week. In that week I would obey him completely, and afterwards everything would revert to what it was. We even agreed on a safeword which I could use if I couldn't stand it any more (the word was "cloud"; neither he nor I can recall why we chose that particular word). He also had to promise me that during that week when he took me from behind, he would be patient with me and allow me time as he pushed into me.
First of all, he used that week, as I feared, to leave all the housework for me. I got less angry about that, however, than I expected. Since these chores now became part of our game and had the effect of humiliating me, they came to have something surprisingly erotic about them (unfortunately this erotic thing about the housework has gone away some; instead I've become so used to the chores that I barely even notice them). And then he wrote his name on my rear cheek with a felt pen. Furthermore, he forbade me to touch my genitals. I told him I'd try, but that I wasn't sure I could manage not touching myself.
The first night he tied me down face up and slept with me. As I was waiting for the alarm to go off the next morning I was under great temptation to masturbate. But I was able to resist (I usually fell asleep before him and awoke before him; normally I masturbated while he was still asleep). In the evening he tied me face down and penetrated me from behind. I felt happy and satisfied, though it hurt just as much as the first time. During the night I had a very difficult time keeping my happiness from being reduced by my shame. The next morning when I woke up, I played around a bit and came. Only too late I remembered that I wasn't allowed that. I didn't tell him that evening, was uncomfortable all day long and only admitted my transgression the next night. He repeated that this was forbidden and that as a punishment he would use me only for oral sex and for anal sex for the rest of the week.
I later told him he could whip me if I had done something wrong and had disobeyed his orders, as long as he didn't whip me just for the sake of whipping me. But he replied that he couldn't and wouldn't ever beat me.
I recounted to him how even as a youngster I had fantasized about being locked in a chastity belt, and how I had found sources on the Internet where one could order chastity belts. These belts weren't cheap, but to be honest, they were something I had always wanted. His enthusiastic reaction made me both happy and anxious, and it didn't take long to convince him to order one.
According to the description I received, I was supposed to receive the belt some time before my lover's birthday. I had planned that I would get the belt, that I would slowly get used to wearing it, first for an hour, then perhaps for several days, just to satisfy myself that I could handle that length of time locked in my belt without causing any physical damage. Then on his birthday I would put on the belt, wrap the key and give it to him as a present. But it turned out otherwise: his birthday came and went, and I still sat waiting for the belt.
In the meantime, our relationship had developed into a 24/7 bdsm relationship (24 hours a day, 7 days a week). He had given me a new name, Pais, and after long hesitation, half a year after the experiences just described, I had agreed to have his name along with the words "Property of" tattooed on the left cheek of my ass. I was extremely embarrassed, not that I was naked with a stranger, although that embarrassed me too, but above all that someone else would know about our secret games. I imagined that the tattooist would come out with some sort of sarcastic remark, and that I would die of shame. Besides, I was convinced that he would happen to know all our acquaintances to whom he would describe in great detail what he had tattooed on whom and where. It almost made me change my mind at the last minute. In reality, it turned out that the tattooist was a rather untidy and disagreeable sort who regarded me more with wonderment than with ridicule.
As well, my wardrobe changed: when I went to the university or when I visited friends or my parents, I still wore pretty well what I always did. But I was under strict instructions that as soon as I got home I could only wear alluring lingerie. I didn't own anything of the sort at the outset and I soon discovered that that kind of apparel wasn't cheap. So at the beginning it was impossible to follow those instructions, and it took a long time before I had saved up enough to buy enough.
I tried a couple of times to give up masturbation, but to no avail. However, I did find it nice when I grew hornier and hornier while I was denying myself and I became more submissive and felt that I was my lover's property. Yet at some point my fingers always did just what they wanted.
The first indication that the belt had arrived was a notice to pick it up at the post office. It was my lover who found the notice. I went to the post office although it was raining cats and dogs and got back home soaked to the skin despite my having used an umbrella. My lover ordered me to get undressed while he opened the package. Then he put the belt on me and pocketed the key.
It was terrible. The belt chafed and pressed and I feared my lover wouldn't be able to get the lock open again because somehow it got all muddled up in the complicated construction of the belt. For the first time I used our safeword. The belt disappeared into the closet as we really didn't want to have to explain to visitors what was going on.
I then announced to my lover that I would gladly try to wear the belt if I could keep the key myself at the beginning. He agreed. The next time I wore the belt and had reassured myself several times over that the lock would open and close without any problems, I discovered that it didn't chafe at all and pressed a lot less than I had believed. It did though hinder taking deep breaths and restricted certain movements and at first I always forgot to remember the belt when I sat down. But all in all it was far less uncomfortable for short-term wear than I had thought that first time. After I wearing it for an hour, I took it off and checked for bruises. Then I put it on again and tried using the toilet. I could indeed go to the toilet and take a shower, so I undertook to wear it for 24 hours in one stretch.
During the following while, I found out that I could wear the belt for as long as I pleased with no negative effects. To guarantee that masturbation was prevented, though, I had to wear the secondary shield. It must be kept in mind that a chastity belt, in the strictest sense, is not a belt at all, but rather a type of iron underwear. At the point where it covers the vulva, there is, on my model, a relatively wide slit. Since it fits quite snugly, both outer lips are squeezed through this opening a bit. In the meantime I've seen pictures of other women wearing chastity belts where the belt hung free at that point and the vulva was in no way squeezed through the slit. I cannot imagine that these belts can really prevent masturbation since there's no problem in getting fingers under the belt. And even if that weren't possible, one could rub the labia against the belt. And the way my belt is designed I was able to touch my labia through the slit. That is why a second cover is provided, one that can be fastened over the first, which has a few tiny holes to let urine pass through. I read about a woman who could reach orgasm even with this second cover, but I'm less fortunate in this respect. With the second shield installed, furthermore, peeing and periods are more difficult, as is general hygiene.
With the shield installed it is next to impossible for me to achieve orgasm: I can count on one hand the number of times I got an orgasm without vaginal stimulation in two years. There was a time that I didn't think I was even had that capability, but since then I read in some women's magazine that 10% of all women were capable of it.
After I had assured myself that I could wear the belt for a longer period of time, I gave my lover the key. We experimented with the belt and I ended up wearing it permanently, except for being allowed to take it off for sex. Then we set up a contract where my lover could put me into the belt any time he wanted and he had the privilege of leaving me in this chastity belt as he decided, even forever if he wanted. As well, I suggested and we agreed that I would be forbidden to ask for release from the belt and that, furthermore, I could not ask how long I would have to wear the belt at any particular time. Should I ask, his answer was to be, "Longer than if you hadn't asked." And if should I plead to be let out altogether, his answer should be the same; not even our safeword would be valid in this circumstance.
It turned out that when I was locked in the belt for some time, I felt very horny and excited, and then I felt very masochistic and wanted to be submissive to my lover and be totally obedient towards him and only serve his passion and finally have an orgasm.
Yet had he released me and just slept with me, and had we lain quietly beside each other, then I would probably have thought , "Whatever am I doing here? Am I crazy? Do I really want this?" I told him about that, and about the fantasy I had where my master would lock me into my belt forever and deny me any orgasm on my own. I wasn't sure if that was really what I wanted. It could be that even my most intense submissiveness wouldn't be rewarded with an orgasm and that I would then find being locked permanently in my chastity belt would stop being exciting and would then become a torture. He declared that he wouldn't unlock me from my belt for a year and that at the end of that time he would review my feelings and experiences with me. That didn't mean that he wouldn't unlock me from the belt if that were what I wanted before then, but he retained the right to keep me locked in for the rest of my life. I would however get the chance to tell him at the end of a year if I still liked the belt.
After that our relationship changed noticeably. Up to now he had been able to point out that it was in his power to decide when I might get relief from my horniness. Now, however, it was irrelevant how I behaved with respect to him since I wasn't going to be unlocked anyway for the foreseeable future. When I obeyed him, it was out of pure love.
At first I thought I wouldn't be able to stand not ever being unlocked. I spent nights awake concentrating on nothing but the fact that I was locked in a chastity belt. I never got used to it, but later I realized that I was able to stand it and it became a quite normal arrangement. It didn't become any less torturous or irritating, but it did become part of my life.
I think it would have been worse for me if I hadn't been able to sleep in his arms, although one of my fantasies consisted in having to sleep on the floor. But that is something I don't want in reality, whereas I do want to be locked in the chastity belt.
I didn't literally stay locked in the belt continuously for a whole year. Once I visited the gyn‘cologist and a couple of time my lover unlocked me to check if the belt was hurting me. But I was never unsupervised, and he neither slept with me nor allowed me to touch myself. Usually I gave him oral sex, and he had anal sex with me at least once a week, although usually more often. Even though he comes, I myself don't; yet I feel deeply satisfied and that is the best present he can give me.
After the year was up, I told him that I couldn't say what it would be like in the future, but for now I was happier than ever. My lover suggested that we could get the lock on the belt welded shut and I could thus be locked in forever. But we threw that idea out when we reflected on the fact that I may want to have children, not to mention that I might want to be freed in case of an accident. On the Internet I read about a woman who had the belt around her hips welded shut, but not the band passing between her legs. That way she couldn't take the belt off even with a key, yet her lover could sleep with her. I guess at some point I'm going to get my collar welded shut, but I don't yet know how or when.
During the course of this past year there were some long stretches when I wasn't locked in my belt. A couple of times I couldn't resist the temptation to masturbate, although I think I did it partly just to see if orgasm were still possible. Since then I can control myself much better and can stay chaste for a long time even without my chastity belt.
One of my lover's aunts had died and bequeathed him (and his brothers) a part of her estate. It wasn't much (about $15,000 split three ways), but it was enough to fulfill a long cherished desire without his ultimately having to add too much of his own money. He told me he'd have my breasts enlarged, showing me photos of what he imagined. I was amazed by these pictures: I had always thought of Pamela Anderson Lee as having large breasts, but these pictures certainly proved me wrong!
At first I was shocked: in no way was he going to force me to do anything against my will. And I think that had I resisted completely, he would not have persisted. He explained that he wanted me to get such large breasts in order to subjugate me. Whenever my shoulders hurt from the weight of the breasts or whenever people stared at me on the street, I would be reminded that I was his property and that he could do with me what he desired.
When he described it to me in those terms, I was no longer totally averse to obeying him.
I felt it would be much more reasonable, however, to invest the money, since we're both somewhat less than rich (one or the other may need a new car soon, or something unforeseen may happen). But it was, of course, his money, and his to do with what he wanted. And had we both been living on a desert island, I would have been ready and willing to have these two monsters implanted. But I shuddered at the thought of what my friends would have to say when they saw me with my new breasts. And then my parents! Neither my friends nor my parents knew of the nature of the relationship between my life's partner and me, and I thought I'd never be able to leave the house again.
I was in a terrible dilemma, for I didn't want to be disobedient either. My lover pointed out that the appeal of the whole thing lay in the fact that I couldn't hide these breasts from anyone. He even intimated that he would leave me, although he never said it in so many words. In the end I agreed to it.
He then contrived a little ceremony. He showed me three pictures of women, one with triple-D breasts, another with double-E, and a third with triple-E. He prepared three pieces of paper, each with one of the sizes written on it. I was to draw one and whatever I chose was what I would get. I became a bit melodramatic in throwing myself at his feet and begging him to forget the draw and accept a size triple- D (even that was a size I had never heard of before).
It took several tries before we found a doctor who was prepared to perform this operation. I felt I was dying a thousand deaths as I went through the shame of having to explain again and again just what I was looking for.
It had been agreed that I didn't have to wear the belt during the examinations and the operations. When we finally went to visit the doctor we had found, we left the belt at home. We didn't quite know how we would explain setting off the metal detectors without ending up in a rather embarrassing situation.
The procedure required several visits and I didn't wear the belt at all during that period. We slept with each other in the usual way and I discovered, as did my lover, that I really had been missing it. When we got back home for good, he put the belt on me again but let me out from time to time in order to sleep with me.
I have no idea what people are saying behind my back, but nobody has said anything untoward to my face.
I finally took a girlfriend, my best friend, into my confidence and described the relationship between my lover and me. To my surprise, rather than declaring me mad, she said she found I had a lot of pluck. I was encouraged to hear this. My parents were puzzled, but didn't dare say anything.
At this point the story should come to an end, to some sort of conclusion that would guarantee the symmetry of the story. But I don't see an end. I don't even know how the story will continue.
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