Sensual Sadist

It was pet’s birthday today. When he came home I was crying profusely in the shower. It’s funny how the shower lets me really let rip with it - it’s not asif my tears need be disguised from anyone, least of all my lover.

Anyway, I was upset because I realized that a week today is the day that I fly back to the UK. I remember the day I left that place like it was yesterday. It was about 80 days ago. The journey was laced with excitement. A little girl making her way across the massive world. I felt shiny and new - the scariness which was a familiar companion had become contentment and expectation. My newfound confidence was reflected in the people around me.

Then, tired and frazzled I saw my goal from across the crowded arrivals lounge - after hours of sitting, walking, searching for luggage on conveyor belts I finally ran into his arms. On prior visits I felt self-conscious and reserved, but not this time. I’ll save being reserved for when I’m dead…

That moment alone beats all the adult games we’ve played together into a cocked hat when it comes to the thrill. That day and the time following it has been the happiest time of my life. For the first six weeks pet could barely play at all because of that weird illness that was subtle but just enough to put him out of action. It meant that play was reduced drastically in this visit but the wait was worth it. And the little bits of (kinky) devotion I did squeeze out of him in that time were more beautiful than anything I’ve ever experienced.

Partly I was crying because it seems a lot of what was on my mind we haven’t gotten ‘round to doing. There is so much passion inside of me that it can be frustrating and overwhelming. Or seem downright ridiculous. In the end it’s sometimes easier to do nothing and let time pass. Or make excuses, find reasons, insecurities, for not going further.

I’m not disappointed. Merely wondering how to get more out of the future. I’ve spent most of the visit in some form of mild top-space. On the last visit I was depressed and bordering on agoraphobic at times - it’s a wonder how I ever managed to feel dominant at all. This time all that was gone. But still I feel I didn’t give it my all.

Sometimes my desires scare me. I have a firm grip on fantasy and reality. But I always want more. My biggest gift on this visit was that physical limitations meant we did more pet play. I got everything I wanted from my sex slave and floor pet and at times more. So relaxed and content I was speechless, but I think sometimes words aren’t needed.

When I say I want more it’s not an entirely selfish thing. Knowing what we’re both capable of, what we have within us, and how much of it overlaps into a workable, tangible thing, is at times daunting. A difficult thing to live up to. I always want to go further even if I’m not sure I can do it.

All this aside, I know when I’ve had a pot of lucky thrown in my face, and to have all these beautiful memories to keep forever certainly constitutes a pot of lucky in my estimation. Not to mention the security that comes from our love, even when we’re apart.

What you may not know about me is what a mess I was pre-Richard. It was so bad that I felt ugly. Now the unpleasant flaws in me seem sexy. I’m not sure if that’s something to brag about, but it suits me :)

I don’t want to attribute all of my success to my pet for that would be extremely patronizing. But when he said he’d be the steady rock for me to grow from back in 2004 he certainly wasn’t making empty promises.

Well, it’s his birthday and I seem to be the one with all the presents :) … Another sign that all is well in the universe.