After many years of plaintive pleading to my wife that she participate in my bondage and c.p., it finally occurred to me my approach was all wrong, at least for my wife's psyche. However I had planned, hoped, pleaded, it was understood as laying a guilt trip on her that she wouldn't do this for me, and so she resisted. I suspect that was indeed a large part of my approach.
At any rate, about 8 years ago, or so, I let up on the cajoling and pleading. And she responded, slowly to be sure, but still positively.
For instance, in 1991, I became attracted to the Fetters locking jock. Instead of simply buying it and presenting my wife with an accomplished fact, I discussed the purchase with her beforehand. While she had no personal enthusiasm for the item, she was encouraging and so I got it. After it arrived, there were instances of positive support and interest on her part. Over time, this same approach won approval of a locking collar (for which she always holds the key); several whips, floggers and canes; my chastity belt; strait jacket and full-head hood. She abhors the idea of hurting me but has become fairly efficient in applying the floggers, understanding the difference between the sought after sting, thud and heat; and the much to be avoided useless and unwanted pain. There are no half-way measures in tightening the straps of the strait jacket or the laces of the hood.
This has been a rather lengthy preamble to a situation that arose last Friday (March 21) and is continuing.
Friday is usually my day off. Occasionally, we'll make Friday an ordeal day for me. It will begin with an hour or longer flogging for which I am sometimes restrained; sometimes not. Friday my wife simply picked up a wrist cuff (from Humane Restraint) and held it open. No alarm bells there so I placed my wrist in it. She closed the strap and activated the lock. Quickly, my other three limbs were similarly banded. I then laid on the single bed (we've tried with me standing, bent over, leaning on a table, but the bed works best) and I was quickly secured at the four points. My bride was very business-like in the flogging, using the lighter whips to warm me and then changing to progressively more sever instruments. Previously, she had usually sought my agreement to progress to a heavier instrument but this time she didn't. Naturally, I noticed, and I was quite pleased with this new level of initiative. And, it seemed to me, there was greater authority in her application. This was thrilling, and it was a glorious thrashing. No blood, of course -- it doesn't appeal to me and I know my bride would never consent -- but it was quite hot and there were nice welts.
Well, after the flogging, my wrists cuffs came off, the ankle cuffs were connected with a short chain, and then it was into the chastity belt, hood, and strait jacket. As usual, my bride tugged the straps and laces as hard as she could pull. Then, two startling things occurred: It had been her practice before to remove the mouth covering on the hood (not a gag, just a snap-on cover over the mouth) when I was totally secured as I was -- didn't happen this time. The other involved the key to the chastity belt.
You may recall a posting of a few weeks ago where I found myself locked in the C.B. for a couple days because I misplaced the key. I was unsure then if my bride had taken the key, but she hadn't. Well, Friday she held the key in front of my eyes and said, "I'll just hold this so it doesn't get lost again," and then she snapped the blinders in place and left me to ponder. In this predicament, I have the freedom of the upstairs, and even shackled and blinded, I can get around fairly well (albeit, bumping into dressers and beds); I can also sit or recline. Previously, we we'd pre-set a time limit: an hour and a half to 2 hours, and then I would be freed. It occurred to me that we hadn't set the limit this time. I wasn't concerned as I knew when we had started and when lunch was so it would not be any longer than an hour and a half. Well, it was longer, much longer (my experience with sensory deprivation is that time passes faster than I think).
I realized something was afoot when my stomach began to rumble continuously. And there were no periodic visits (at least I am aware of none) to encourage me or see how I was doing. It turned out to be four hours. My shoulders were not happy being in the strait jacket that long. My bride said not a word as she loosened the jacket and then left me to get out of it, the hood and shackles. The scratchy canvas of the jacket had been an interesting sensation on my back but the chains of the chastity belt rubbing my bruised ass cheeks had been more than just interesting. And now the jolt: no key to the c.b.
I dressed, put away the toys and came downstairs. I said to my wife: "I couldn't find the key."
She nodded, and then said, "I'm hanging on to it for a while." I couldn't think of anything to say, but I sure felt a reaction in the tube. Under the category of being careful what you ask for, I decided to leave it at that.
Supper was a bit early. Afterward, we watched a movie. At her usual hour, my wife went up to prepare for bed. What should do? Nothing seemed an appropriate course. I surely was confused. This was very different from the weekend with the lost key -- that time I only suspected she might have the key but this time I knew she had it and it was clear she was in no hurry to give it to me. After the news, I too went to bed. We kissed, said our I love yours and settled for the night. And then, surprise, she patted the C.B. shield and said good night again.
I slept okay and next morning I simply showered and so forth, dressed and came to breakfast. My bride asked, "How did you sleep?"
Again being careful, I replied, "Pretty well. Not as well as sometimes but better than most." She smiled. We embraced, and once again the tube filled.
So I thought I'm locked in and she has the key. Well, wasn't that what I wanted? I was fascinated, enthralled: my bride had taken a very active part, a leading part in the whole affair. And then it hit me that I was well and truly secured but I didn't know for how long. Well, at this point I simply let my fantasies run wild. Then I recalled we were going to church on Sunday we had an agreement that none of our toys would ever complicate church. Sure enough, Sunday morning, as I was shaving, my bride handed me the key. I completed the bathroom and removed the belt. I was sort of saddened it had ended.
After church, we planned a brunch but my wife said she wanted to get something at home before we left to eat so we returned home. Once in the door, she embraced me and whispered in my ear, "Go put your belt on and bring me the key." I was overwhelmed, and this time there was no containing tube. I rushed upstairs, slipped out of my pants -- and then realized the problem. I went in the bathroom and used cold water -- no luck. What to do? My bride called up "What's keeping you?" I replied, "I've got a problem." She came to see and giggled. She then reminded me what Marie Constance had said: "Use rubbing alcohol." I did and was shortly locked in. I handed the key to my wife. She smiled and we left for brunch.
Several times passing through the buffet line at brunch and later, while we were shopping, my bride "accidentally" bumped the front shield. This left me in no doubt: she was making a statement that I am the lockee and she the locker.
Driving home, she said to me, "So what do you think?"
"Think about what?" I responded carefully.
She laughed, and said, "Why Friday and today, of course."
Quandary: do I play dumb and let her continue to take the lead, or do I pitch in? I decided to pitch in: "Well, Friday was certainly welcome. In fact, it was the best ever. And when you tantalized me with the key, well, that really got to me."
"And what about today?" she asked.
"Well, I had hoped for this day to come along for a long time. I was a bit disappointed when you gave me the key to unlock myself before church, but you blew me away after church when you told me to lock myself up again. Thank you very much!"
"I suppose you're wondering how long you're to be locked in?"
I nodded, and replied, "Yes, I am somewhat interested."
She giggled at my response and I too lost it. "Well," she continued, "it seems to me continuous wear isn't as important as the fact I hold the key. I know you've told me about some on the net who have worn their belts for several days at a time. If you really want to do an endurance feat, I'll go along but that's not my preference."
I took a moment to digest this, and then I asked, "Well, what might your preference be?"
"I would like to lock you for a day or two or even three, and then let you out. I may let you out at night but lock you in the morning before you go to work or I might lock you before super. It's just when it pops into my mind."
"And what if I lock myself in?"
She frowned a moment, and then said, "I really wouldn't like that. I know you did that before, and I understand why you did because I didn't, but now I think we have a partnership. Does that make sense?"
At that, I pulled to the curb, put the car in park and leaned over to embrace her. It was difficult, my being in the belt and the center arm rest, but it was worth it. Needless to say, I agreed.
She added, "Of course, feel free to ask to be locked in."
I didn't post the start of this on Friday or Saturday, because I was embarrassed about the fiasco of the "lost" key a few weeks ago. Now, it seems it will only get better. As this is written Monday afternoon, I'm at work and locked in. While I might have fantasied about long term wear, the fact that my bride has stepped forward, and is willing to control, is enough for me. Besides, having come this far, who knows where this will lead.
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Page last updated 97-Mar-24 by: Altairboy@aol.com