Dreamland

I did not manage to get to sleep until sometime after 4:30 this morning. I was too amped up from the event and jittery from talking about play possibilities with You. All those ideas planted in my head, swirling around, creating mental scenes both delicious and horrifying.

When I did get to sleep, the scenes continued. You and I played in my dreamland the rest of the morning. We played hard and You pushed me nearly to breaking. When You saw that I couldn’t take anymore without shattering, You laid me on the bed, held me, and told me over and over that I had done well and how You were proud to own me. Then in the next dream it would start all over again.

When I woke, I was aroused at a level I have not been for a very long time. I don’t know where I found the control to not touch myself. I waited, hands on my head, to get out of bed until I could think about something, anything, other than what We had been doing in my dreams. Even then, snippets visited me during the day.

For the record: Pussy may be confused about the breath play hood. I am not. I’m terrified of that damn thing. I am extremely aroused by the ultimate control that it presents. I do not find having to fight for breath for long periods of time arousing. At all. I am Your fucktoy. I endure because it brings You joy.

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Today I am grateful for: a couple of headache-free hours
Today’s funny moment: n/a
Sad moment: waking without You after amazingly realistic dream romping
Protocol: n/a
Water: 4 liters
Corset: 24″ am, 24″ pm
Hood: n/a

Preparation

In accordance with your instructions I went today and bought my first flags: Gray for bondage and Fuchsia for spanking. When I looked up colors I found it pretty amusing that my favorite color corresponds with one of my favorite activities.

So I’ll be leather flagging, bandana flagging, and tonight I made a leather wrist band for my right wrist. I’ve been wondering how much, if any, will be noticed. If it’s noticed I wonder if any will be understood. If nothing else it’ll give me something to talk about.

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Today I am grateful for: creativity
Today’s funny moment: “Mom, I like your bras [sic]. It’s very colorful.” I really must find a more private place to cycle my corset.
Sad moment: Most of my day has had a general malaise
Protocol: I read all about hanky codes and how to fold hankies today. It’s fabric origami. I’m about as talented at it as I would be with paper origami. Tomorrow is another day.
Water: 4 liters
Corset: 23″ am, 22.25″ pm

Want, Need, Desire

I want to feel your flogger on my body, marking time and flesh in perfect unison. I want you to push me. To know you are causing me pain. To know I don’t want the pain. To know that I adore the challenge the pain creates. I want to consider and reject the use of my safe words over and over and over. To know you know me better than I know myself. To know you will push me until I think I will have to quit … only to have you back off for a moment and then … start the push anew.

I want to feel the breath of the buggy whip. Knowing the breath is but a warning of the slicing pain that will come, when you’ve had enough of tormenting me. Tormenting me, knowing just the idea of that searing pain has me on the edge of tolerance. I want to forget about the observers. I want to be your instrument.

I want to be strapped immobile to a spanking bench. I want to be there exposed to you, for you. I want your hands on my ass. Slapping, warming it, carefully, every inch, preparing it for the onslaught that is to come. Every once in while stopping for a handful of cheek because you simply can’t stop yourself, because it’s yours for the taking. I want to be spanked until I am separate from the pain. Until I am beyond it. Until I am there but not there. My body moving with the force of each blow yet unaware.

I want your teeth in the bend of my shoulder. I need your marks on my body. I desire to be your canvas.

Please, let me be your muse.

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Today I am grateful for: Stamina
Today’s funny moment: Check under his mattress. He might have a copy of Machiavelli’s The Prince under there.
Sad moment: sex life discussions
Water: 4 liters 12 ounces
Corset: 23″ am, 23″ pm

Flog this

I am in desperate need of a thorough flogging. I would settle for an equally thorough spanking. I also wouldn’t mind some biting. As long as I’m dreaming, I’d like several marks that will last more than a couple of days.

Please?

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Today I am grateful for: patience
Today’s funny moment: Homosexual M&Ms
Training: none
Water: 4 liters
Corset: not worn – numb thigh / I AM wearing a corset tomorrow night regardless of the state of my stupid freaking thigh. It’s had a week to heal. I’m done waiting.

On belonging

To belong:

1a. to be suitable, appropriate, or advantageous <a dictionarybelongs in every home>
1b. to be in a proper situation <a man of his ability belongs in teaching>

2a. to be the property of a person or thing —used with to <the book belongs to me>
2b. to be attached or bound by birth, allegiance, or dependency —usually used with to <they belong to their homeland>
2c. to be a member of a club, organization, or set —usually used with to <she belongs to a country club>

3a. to be an attribute, part, adjunct, or function of a person or thing <nuts and bolts belong to a car>

You say to me often that I belong to You. I agree readily and without thought. This is a fact. I have known that I am Yours nearly from the first. I am lucky to be Yours. I am Your property and will be for as long as my heart pushes blood through my body, whispering Your name with each percussive beat.

This past weekend. I don’t have a memory of most of it. The things I do remember have been replaying in my mind. I hear most often, the story related by Your mate, of her hearing my cries as You played with me and her statement that she believed the sound to be “One of ours.” This statement has stayed with me.

I was rolling it over in my thoughts, again, today. I don’t understand the impact it has made on me. I considered that perhaps there has been a void of belonging in my life. I don’t believe there has been. I’ve never felt the need to be a member of multiple clubs. So why then? Why does this particular inclusion matter?

This statement spoken by Your mate feels just as important, if not more so, as someone outside of Our group calling me “Your girl”. Is it that then – one more person acknowledging who I’ve become? If that is the case then why does the acknowledgment carry weight? I am Yours. You have said it. I agree. I know who I belong to. My pussy is very clear on the subject. Why does what anyone else has to say make a difference?

I don’t know. Thus far no amount of pondering has conjured an epiphany. I know only that the statement “One of ours” has me misty-eyed nearly every time I think of it. The why of it does not matter as much as the belonging. I am where I belong, with people who see and accept the genuine me. That is what carries weight. That is what matters. That is worth getting misty-eyed over.

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Today I am grateful for: The distraction of television
Today’s funny moment: Greeting the UPS man plugged and wondering if I could take the package from him without said plug shooting down the leg of my yoga pants.
Training: 1 hour
Water: 16 oz
Corset: 26″ am, 25″ pm