Recovery, Slow Progress

I’m tired so tolerate it if this doesn’t read very well. Happily I’m tired because I stayed up late last night with Alexandra.

That I let this site go silent is eloquent testimony of how the tiredness of illness affected me.

Being ill for several weeks is pretty much unprecedented in my life. That cost us so much of the time Alexandra can spend at home. Annoyingly having been sick has left me a little weak. My stamina is slowly returning.

My joints are betraying me, limiting what I can do. And I seem to have sprained a stomach muscle keeping me from lying flat face down.

Worshipping Alexandra through boot worship has become an almost - and I’m sure will become a - daily ritual. Honestly I can’t give her boots all the attention they merit. But I do what I can and she understands. My heart is where it should be even if my body is lagging behind. Closing my eyes and recollecting kneeling before her makes me feel warm and humble.

Alexandra took my inability to engage in S&M in good spirits. Not that she hid her hunger to hurt me. I could almost taste her sadism.

As my health has returned my masochism has remained subdued. (Probably my diminished vitality.) We’ve both felt that each of us should be able to “do something” to restore it. Not that there’s a magic button she could press, no invisible on/off switch. In giving me time in which to recover she did everything that was needful. Pressure is often fatal to sexuality.

While not silly enough to feel guilty I can’t help but find fault with myself for not being more able to express my love for her in suffering. Whatever the ignorant may think sadomasochism is very real part of our romance.

We’ve brushed lightly into cbt. Nothing at all strenuous. It like reading a gripping book turning the pages knowing that the most exciting part of the story is yet to come.

Last night she worked me over with floggers and whips. I hate having to ask for conditions but I did: limiting it to stinging implements, avoiding the hard impact of canes and wooden kitchenware. I’ve often had to struggle with the latter. But the former provide the pain that I can most easily eroticize. Especially the hot, stinging bite of the single tail. This will let me reawaken my masochism so I can again give my body wholly to her whims.

It was so good to see Alexandra smile as she worked on me.

I’ve always valued her ability to read me. I fear my kinkiness is wavering so much right now that I may be misleading her. Sometimes she’ll express a desire and I don’t say anything. Then several hours later I’ll replay her words and get aroused.

(While Bitchy Jones may not be able to find any femdom porn that she likes, there’s nothing like reading a smart sadistic woman write clearly about what she like to do to me: it is surprisingly therapeutic (sorry BJ) in helping me reconnect with my masochism.)

Hopefully shortly there will be more colorful adventures to