Locked In A Closet?
This thread from Informed Consent caught my eye, in which somebody was asking about the fantasy of being locked up in a dark enclosed space:
I have another fantasy – being locked in a cupboard or box (as opposed to a cage).
It would mean that I would be totally isolated, ignored, invisible – and soon become very bored.
I wouldn’t know how long I was going to be kept locked up – it would be up to my Master – anything from one hour to all day.
Would I become scared, even panicky? Would I become frustrated, even angry? Would I become calm, contemplative and accept my plight? Would I lose track of time and be terrified that something had happened to my Master and I would never get out? It would be even more exciting to be kept in captivity overnight, so that I have to sleep in my prison.
No doubt my Master would have to unlock the cupboard or box to check me for safety reasons from time to time.
The human body and mind is very adaptable – and I’m sure I would adjust to my circumstances, despite or because of my ultimate helplessness.
If I ever complained or protested about my situation or treatment, my Master would remind me that it was what I wanted, so it’s tough luck if I’ve changed my mind.
Have you been locked up in a cupboard or box? How long were you in captivity? Have you ever been held overnight? Did you manage to sleep at all?
One response:
I’ve found the fantasy didn’t prepare me in the slightest for hours and hours of solitude. It was exhausting, it was a headfuck, it was calming, frustrating, erotic and to begin with almost impossible to control my head and the speed with which my thoughts ran wild. I even started singing at one point… The cupboard doesn’t offer much room, but I have found myself curled and snoozing in there, if I can that is.
I am never more relieved than when I am let out and never more aware of what I am.
How about you, Bondage Blog readers? Have you had any “locked in closets” moments to share?
You ask “have you ever been held overnight?” Yes, I was. Master held me in a closet with handcuffs on my wrists and ropes on my ankles and a ball gag in my mouth. He liked to combine. Did I sleep? I don’t think so. He would come in every couple of hours and present. I would take it down the throat and beg him to let me go. When he shot off in my face, he would laugh.
In the morning, he let me go and held me for hours while I finally slept.