You know he makes me write lines when I misbehave. It's awful. It eats a huge chunk of time. It is utterly impossible to multi-task while writing. It makes me feel embarrassed to foolishly waste something as precious as my time, writing but not working on my writing. Even more so when I look over my punishment journal and I see that most of my punishments fall into just a couple categories. The most common reason I find myself writing lines is for cursing at times my Top deems inappropriate. You'll remember it was my affection for c*nt that landed me in the ER, broken toy lodged in my...never mind. You can scroll back if you want to revisit my humiliation.
There's a big jump from the number 1 thing I am punished for and the second most common reason. There's an embarrassing number of cursing related, then only a few for times I have in one manner or another doubted my Dom's affection or commitment to me. Times when I have said or done a thing that reflected a lapse in my trust of our dynamic.
I struggle with that often, but typically work through it before it reaches a boil-over. I think I do an exceptional job reining myself in before I act out, but every so often, as my punishment journal reflects, I don't.
Recently, I randomly came across the email that was the precursor to this entry: The Musings of Mistress Cassidy: And if you say run... (mistresscassidycreamsmusings.blogspot.com) It's perhaps the most explicit post I have ever shared here, but the original version that was sent to my top is even more so.
As I was typing I wish I could remember what I was looking for when I stumbled over it, I remembered what it was looking for, the interconnectedness of all things. I was looking for emails exchanged with a pretty kitten several years ago. There's been a few, I needed to double check the fine details.
His reply was there too. It wasn't the post that led him to say, I love your blog. That was so long ago, it's still my favorite though. Maybe I'll revisit that one too. In this one he was encouraging me to share here what I wrote for him privately. He was uncharacteristically generous with his compliments. It makes me so wet when the sincerity is obvious. Then again, it was a confession that I come when he calls. That I wait, with bated breath, for his command, to suck and gag, on...
His exhibitionism isn't precisely like mine, but it is there.
It's late. My muse is being coy. Every time I think, I'll find the thread to pull tomorrow, let's just sleep, a word, a concept, flashes and fades. Pick it up hot, your fingers will heal but if the spark is lost, we'll freeze. You're alone in this room with me, it is mighty late to tease me like this.
You'll finish what you started.
How can I be so in love with someone who fantasizes about...
Control, humiliation, force, rejection
I swear that I am.
I am ever so deeply, passionately in love with me.
How else would one signal to the universe, I am ready to explore these parts of me too? Not simply accept, and manage, but embrace and master.
