My Goddess is Gone

Ack, yeck and ugh!

Too long a time will pass before I will get to be My Lady’s pet again.

Alexandra is once again on the other side of a 2,000-mile pond. I sit in my house by myself.

We didn’t play after the night of the MCD. Even though she takes such relish in that device that I’d be worried if I weren’t such a pain slut.

Mostly I was her guy and held her. Though I’m shamed to admit sometimes I involuntarily wandered off into my own mental space. My slavish needs oppressed me. Knowing I’d be without her was like a vice on my brain.

(You perverts over there on the left who think she should’ve locked me up in a CB-3000 when she left should take your hands out of your pants.)

Wither Down On My Knees while she is away?

I’ve never let the absence of hot BDSM action leave me silent.

Most likely I’ll talk some about the D/s side of our relationship. A few issues we need to work out. I hope she will as well once she is as comfortable as she can be.

I’m thinking about writing about some of my most degrading fantasies. Then I’m thinking no, I shouldn’t do that.

Is there a fantasy that isn’t commonplace? Billions of people are alive. Surely millions of them are masochistic men. So we share the same happily filthy dreams.

I’m no writer of erotica. (OK, I’m no writer at all.) The idea of recapitulating a series of clichés troubles me.

Doesn’t mean I won’t.

Right now I feel mostly lost without her, either as my Goddess or the soft one I hold in my arms.

I await the day she returns.