I’m not sure what to focus on in this entry.
I could write about how I had a giant meltdown last weekend and how Master held me and refocused me and brought me sunshine to dry my flood of tears.
I could write about how I push him away under stress, but instead of getting upset with me, he just draws me back into his arms. He reminds me that I belong with him and to him—not with force or threat—but by showing me how wonderful and compassionate he is, which further re-enforces my love for him, my need to be with him, my desire to serve him.
I could write about the way he explained his Mastery over me; gave me the framework of ‘guided inquiry’ to show me that while I am accountable to him, he does not want to remove ounce of my autonomy or hinder my goals or break down my personality. He wants me to serve him, but in a way that works for both of us, so that in the end I’ll always want to serve him and always feel like this was a choice that I freely and happily made.
I could write more about how he called me his soulmate today, and then predictably downplayed it, when I “oohhhed and awwwed”. I could write about all the little ways that we match and come together like pieces in a puzzle. I could mention our shared quirks and fascinations; our shared wonderment for so many of life’s little nuances.
And if I wanted to talk about sex, I could write about how I love when he just nestles into my chest and suckles on my breasts. How, I am surprisingly bad at this no eye-contact rule when I wear my collar—but how I love feeling powerless. I could talk about how much I want him in me all time, but also enjoy the fact that he can deny me pleasure at his whim. It just makes me crave him more.
I could write about how he tied me to his door two weekends ago, and clamped my nipples and flogged me soundly. About how I wish he had an instrument that he could hit me with at his full force so that neither of us feels like he’s holding back, but at the same time doesn’t injure me. I really don’t think I could handle him whipping me at full force with the flogger—and I would pass out at full force with the cane—but I think it would feel oh-so-good to have him really going at it with something that was pushing my limits, but still allowing me to withstand the pain.
I could write about how much we jokingly role-play—like he we once stood in the shower and recreated the kissing scene from The Notebook, or how we pretend that we’re breaking up in public to freak people out, or how we’ll have conversations in different characters at a restaurant just for fun. And I could write how much I like it and how interesting I think it would be to do full-out sexual scenes. Or how greatly aroused I am by the whole prison warden/inmate scenario.
Or, I could write in more depth about how I feel when we’re just sitting on the couch together and we’re on our different computers, doing our own separate thing…and how amazing he is, for enjoying spending even that kind of time with me. I could write about his immense faith for our future, and while I was once worried that it was blind faith—I once feared that his reassurances were not completely genuine or well thought-out—I can now see the strong commitment to working on things together and making both our dreams com true.
And I’m sure there’s even more to to touch upon, but this is my start, held together by one resounding theme: I love you, Master!