The Belt
I am belted. The iron weighs heavily on me in several ways. Obviously it
restricts my physical movements. I used to run in the gardens or meadows ...
racing as I did on earth, my hair streaming behind me, the wind strong in my
face. I would run until I was breathless, exhausted and exhiliarated. Running in
a belt is not possible. I can still swim at Samsara. The belt is only worn when
I am away from the house or not with him. I would rust if I swam in a belt. And
I don't even want to think about the issue of sand.
The belt does force me to walk in a more feminine way, surprisingly. There is a
slight but noticeable shifting of metal as I move, which exaggerates the sway of
my hips. The very instrument that would prevent my use causes my hips to move in
a more enticing , sinuous manner than without it.
I realize it is there to prevent my use. The barbarian part of my mind both
rebels against it and is flattered, thinking it is there for my protection. Then
I wonder why is it really there ... what lesson is there for me in the belt?
Only the most persistent Master would attempt to circumvent the belt. One
Master, last night, teased me, whispering asking if I could not imagine myself
writhing beneath him. The idea planted, it was impossible not to image the
picture he created with that whisper.
The belt not only prevented that from happening, but left me with a heightened
awareness of that heat in my belly. By putting me in a belt, he has awakened a
deeper level of sensuality in me, paradox though it seems. By putting me in a
belt, my craving for him and desire to have him find me pleasing has increased.