Both Michelle and I have had dreams about my chastity lately. I guess it’s a sign of how much it has filtered down into our subconscious minds. (It’s been several years now since we started experimenting with periods of it, and about six months since I started doing it full time, with only the occassional release.)
My own dream was a fairly banal semi-nightmare about making socially awkward comments about my own chastity, in front of family members who would never relate to it in a million years. I can’t remember any of them except the last one, which was “Chastity under God!”. For some strange reason I yelled this out in a lounge room full of people who all suddenly realised I wasn’t really joking. Obviously it was extremely embarrsing for all concerned, especially with the added religious element, and I woke up shortly afterwards thinking “Oh thank fucking Christ that didn’t actually happen.”
Anyway. Michelle spoke to me the following morning and informed me that she had also had a dream about my chastity.
“Honey, I dreamed last night that you confessed to me that you had been masturbating and spraying spoof everywhere.” (Her exact words). “You haven’t really been doing that have you?” She sounds worried, like she thinks it might be her subconscious revealing to her what she had sensed, but didn’t want to admit to herself.
“No,” I say.
She’s sitting up in bed, all blue eyes, enourmous breasts and dark hair tousled from sleep. It’s nice to be able to tell the truth and not disappoint her…
“No, I haven’t.”
“Good. I would have been cross. Now, you mentioned something about coffee and toast.”
By the way, this blog is officially back to the live action. The net is on and the house is liveable, and I’ll be back on about the 27th with another femdom art post.