it began as a scene.
a Secondlife scene. a typical fantasy D/s playthrough, which i stumbled upon by chance after catching up with an old friend who shared similar fantasies and fetish interests.
a dollification sequence, sci-fi based, with various chamber apparatus and stages of mental and physical alteration.
cleansed, denuded, and apparently “erased”. reporgrammed as a pleasure slave. something i’ve experienced many times before with varying levels of strictness.
but this scene ended differently.
i was placed in storage, ready for shipping. left to stand in “stasis”, as decor, for my new “owner’s” amusement.
that was a smart move, and bad luck for me. as a tiny few D/s partners have discovered, there are some fantasies and activities that i find so exciting that i will embrace them fully. more fun than sex, more serious than whips or chains, and i’ll enjoy playing thorugh the ideas again and again.
usually, there is a rather mundane failsafe. repetition, and the resultant boredom. you can have too much of a good thing, even a great thing, so over time the sex drive depletes, the excitement dissolves and it’s time (at least for a while) to move on to something different.
there is one exception to this. that’s when, counter-intuitively, boredom IS the fetish. dull fun.
this is what is means to be a mannequin, statue, furniture or other objectified item.
being left to stand in place, being commanded not to move, speak, or think, can’t become boring in the same way as other exciting fantasies. or rather, it can, but if there is even a tiny spark of excitement remaining when involved in the scene, the boredom actually becomes a trigger for increasing pleasure.
almost like a challenge. i’m in a scene, a game, with rules. as the submissive, i am essentially in control, but my the sum of this contorl is only the power to end the scene, to break character and cease the activity.
but that would be cheating, and i’m very strict with myself.
so there i am. as i have been sometimes before, in storage.
for better or worse, my playmate, who is clearly intelligent and also excited by the scene from their side of the display cabinet, realises in a flash of inspiration how powerful her dominance has instantly become.
that’s too bad for me. but the protests, the squirming and horror at the circumstances of the scene serve only to increase my excitement, and this totally overrides any reason or common sense i might employ.
i’m left in the display case. informed i will be there for a very long time.
but this is reality, yes? i’m not really bound at all. or am i?
is online, or Secondlife hypnosis, real?
of course not. but the subject can make it more real, or a semblance or real. an activity can fill your thoughts, become an interest, an obsession. you aren’t really tranced, but with the right sort of personality, you’ll enjoy the feelings and want to take them further. deeper. more serious.
i want to be a good ornament. a good possession. i want to revel in the aloof, cold, matter-of-fact words and personality of my captor. i want to enjoy and dedicate time to the dull, timeless moment of being held against my will, no matter (within the reasonable limits of reality) the cost to my other interests.
i’m playing a game, being strict with myself.
after some time, it becomes easier to accept the new role. it is becoming easier to accept.
my captor is rather ingenius, saying and doing all the right things to maintain my current mental state. it’s all about them, not me. i’m to be ignored and used at their will.
i didn’t see it coming until my own devious compliance and my new owner’s actions sealed my fate.
first, there was the collar. an amethyst brand. quite common in Secondlife, and functionally sound. this doesn’t worry me. i’ve had others before. they “lock”, but really, a “slave” is free to escape anytime so long as they can handle the emotiional guilt-tirp and social fallout from such betrayal.
then the cuffs. and the lockable display case, my new home.
but what’s “lockable” in a world where people can teleport anywhere at will? it’s all in the mind, just fun and games.
then came the gag. the facemask. i love transformation, and the new skin, shape brand and tag were blissful.
then came the loss of the friends list, and groups. not too serious, really. i know who i know, and i can always rejoin and relink with them. i want to see how far my new owner will go. how strict they will be, and how much they will ask for.
would the changes have bothered me earlier? i don’t know for sure. maybe. but this is now, and now i am content, allowing them to do to me as they please. it’s me doing this to myself of course. or at least, that’s what i’m believing. but how much control am i giving up really, and what is left behind?
then comes the Restrained Life viewer. my own idea, really. something to try out and test. reinforced by my captor, who i’m growing more and more attached to. the friends and past don’t matter, really.
then the gag, the mask, and the display case, all become far more real.
scripts added. i’m given tasks to perform, things done to further my owner’s cause and satisfy their desires. not sexual – i’m an object, not a person. my function is purely without feeling. ort thought.
then i can’t speak. can’t chat in-world, with anyone. how ridiculously exciting. how new and strange.
i can’t IM. no sending or receiving. my proeprty is claimed by my new owner, and i have no desire to do anytihng about it at all. i haven’t lost my mind, this is all really a game anyway.
but it’s now a wonderful, terribly serious game. and i’m being sucked deeper and deeper into the rules.
then i can’t teleport. there is finality to that. now, i really am trapped. i can’t leave my case, unless either my owner opens it and commands me to exit, or i log off and go do something else.
i’m effectively frozen in-world, unless my owner desires otherwise. the slave, the object, is still in control, but the only control possible is now to leave. but that’s cheating. that’s no control at all. that’s like saying a real life prisoner has control over their captivity becuase they could kill themselves at any time to end their imprisonment.
and i don’t like to cheat. so i am truly, utterly, locked inside my case. unable even to move inside it, since my owner has used my collar to lock my pose and position.
all i can do is be.
deaf and mute, in-world and over IMs. there is little i can do, but savour the fascinating experience. the only exception to my new condition is my owner. they are able to send and receive IMs, exchanging words with me.
but their words are simply instructions, encouragment, further training and solidifying to my current situation. i’m to forget ever being anything else but what i am now. i’m to think what my owner IMs to me, to obey what they command, apparently forever.
i wonder if the experience will end, and if it does, what form the end will take. but it is far more exciting, and fun, to imagine it never will. to dissolve into the moment, and be simply what i now cannot help but be.
how devious the Restrained Life viewer and items are. it took a little work to realise how they function, but now the working are clear and i, or my owner, can use them as desired.
too bad for me. the locked, mute, deaf, mannequin lost somewhere in a dark corner of Secondlife, where no one but my owner knows where to find me.
updates to come, possibly, if the mood takes me or someone takes an interest.
