Playtime

I desperately wanted to be able to sit down and thank you properly. My thoughts however, are mush. I have not been able to stop shaking for an hour now. I’ve been crying off and on for a good 45 minutes. Who knows why. You called it: I’m a mess. I don’t know how I’m going to be able to run discussion.

I’m spent in the best sense of the word. The corners of my jaw and the soft tissue at the bend of my throat are bruised from the posture collar. I have a stunningly red image on my thigh from your crop benchmark (I could not have imagined the explosion of pain.) The center of my back is bruised from the bondage belt. I have petechiae hemorrhage on my eyelids from the strap of the Sense Dep hood. I have never felt more happy or fulfilled.

I LOVE what we do together. I could not have imagined how it is with you. I did imagine, plenty. None of it compares to the reality. I genuinely believed the things I imagined were pure fantasy – that nothing could be that good. They aren’t just “good”. They are fantastic! I cannot imagine another instance where the fantasy paled in comparison. We’ve only just begun our play. When I think of the years stretched out before us, I become giddy.

The time I spent hooded (oh great – crying – again) was amazing. That thing you did to my nose, while completely gross, was the best laugh I’ve had in … possibly … ever. You said we would laugh. I could not imagine it. The chains ….. oh the chains … I adore them! The weight and how you use them for control christ Wet. Again! How on earth is there any left??

And … AND … I get to see you again tomorrow.

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