For some reason this song just popped into my mind.

I have no idea why, but I do like it.

It seems to bear no relevence to how things are...but it must have popped in for a reason.

Anyway ...enjoy.

Now what do I do?

So now I do need some help...what do I do now?

 I didnt have access to my phone for a few days and this is what I got when I turned it on.................

You better call me now....


U had better call me now. Dont push me.


I dont know whats going on. I cant get my emails. I wont have you telling me you wont talk to me. Remember I know all about you. I expect you to call me. I know something is on your mind so you will talk to me or I will be the bastard you know I can be.


Pick the fucking phone up now


I wont call as I know you are in a meeting. Do I need to point out how well I know you and what I can do. So please call me as soon as you are free no matter the time. Dont think I will go away.


Ok...so now what?

I called him, I spoke to him and told him he had threatened me, he told me he loves me. So now what? I do not want him to threaten me, I do not want him to carry out my threats, what the hell do I do now.

So now the baby is here

So he told me that the baby has been born, its a girl.

I haven't asked any more details, I don't want to know, and yet each and every fibre of my being wants to know every detail of everything. I want to know if she looks like him, I want to know how he felt when he held her, what they said...I want to know...but wild horses and hot nails in my eyes would not make me ask.
The last few days have been horrid, work has been so hard. The  jungle nearby is on fire, and so it is hazy and hot and the air is not so good. I have been crazy busy, which is probably a good thing. I cant sleep for long and when i do , I am once more plagued by nightmares of the end of the world, of diseases that are revolting, of death and destruction. Nothing new there really, just the intensity of it all......and the exhaustion that follows is difficult.

 I have been trying to sort out in my mind what I feel...I have look at jealousy...examined it, turned it over in my mind. Am i jealous that they have a baby...hell yes...am i jealous that he is spending time with her.....I am not sure...  I think what I am jealous of is that they have something to share that we never had, something life long, something "forever". My life had never been about a "forever " thing until I met him, andn I thought it would be...and now its not...and that is what I am jealous of...the fact that the possibility of that has been stolen away...not by a baby, not even by her...but it has been stolen, cast away...by his lies
.
How else do I feel....I feel betrayed....I feel he has betrayed my trust in him. he asked for absolute trust in him, in his ability to look after me, to do what was best for me, for us...and he has shown scant regard for that. He has placed so little value on what I gave him, the thing i found the most difficult to give him, the thing I knew I would find the hardest if he devalued it...and he has.

I am angry too, angry at him, angry at her and angry at myself. I am angry at him for the lies, I am angry at her for not finding out about me, not noticing , not knowing....and I am angry at myself for not following my instinct...not knowing that I was being lied to. I am trying very hard not to be angry at myself for trusting him. The courage it took to give that trust is, I think, what is keeping me going. I will not let him take that from me.

I am sad too...sad from deep within me..I am not at the crying uncontrollably, which is how I often behave when I am sad, but of damn I am sad....a deep sadness that seems to fill every cell in my body, clouds every vision, dulls every thought.

And yet somewhere amongst all of this ..there is something else, I am not sure what it is. I think there is , somewhere in there a 'lightness'...I am not sure why, maybe it is knowing the truth, knowing its out there.

So that's where I am at, at the moment.

Confused and far away. But I don't feel alone, You have all been so great, so supportive, so sensible with your advice and support and now I need to begin to sort our all "stuff " out.

hmmmmm

I just want to ask why

Today we had a brief chat on msn

It was strange beyond strange. I didn't want to talk to him, but I wanted to know how he was. I didn't know what to call him, but I know had I been speaking I would have called him 'Sir' inadvertently. I can see by what he says he is hurting, and I wish he wasn't , but equally I hope he is hurting and his heart is ripping, thread by thread into a million little pieces.

Thankfully he didn't talk about the baby, the future or the past. We have a  shared past, going back a long time, and we have no future together and for me that feels such a relief but inconceivable at the same time.

There are so many things spinning around in my head.............I want to shout at him , to see him looking at how angry I am. I want to stand in front of him and ask question after question until I hold every piece of information I possible can, and then I want  time to mull it over and understand.

Mostly I just want to ask why.

He is away next week, and wants to talk to me, he says he wants to talk to me, that we need to talk.

Do we?

I am not sure.

for sin

pain that silences.....nearly

There are some real angry things I want to say, some things I need to get off my chest...but I am not sure that I  am ready to do them....so today I went and had a massage.Not one of those nice gentle one, where they sooth your soul.....more one that pounded very muscle I have, every achy muscle that has been worked over the last few day and I let feeling invigorated, lighter somehow.

My treat day continued, I went out with my camera, went out into the jungle, found wild orchids and got up close and personal, found some butterflies and stalked them. Searched in the undergrowth and managed to scare the smallest monitor lizard far away under the greenery. I saw the most beautiful iridescent blue kingfisher perched on a branch above a stream, but he flew away............................

I returned to civilization (?) and went to the market, found a few old ladies and took their photos, and it made me remember that people are nice, people can be honest.................and then I came home and fell asleep, the first time properly in days. I woke up an hour later and now here I am.

There is so much I want to say, so much I want to feel but at the moment I feel almost nothing and cannot find the words to say what I need to. I know they will come, but at the moment I feel my hurt is a gag, more powerful than anything he has.......and  I want to feel different.

reasonableness is out of the windoq

shitty fucking lying bastard

Some of the truth

Here  am again......early early morning....have been awake since 3am...the place is quiet, although the jungle is coming awake now as dawn approaches..............

I spoke briefly to him yesterday, he is busy, in and out, on and off the computer............................and  find out why................I find out the truth.

Maybe it is that women tend to be more in tune with their emotions and the vibes given off by others, I know its a generalization and testosterone and emotional awareness are not mutually exclusive, but I do believe we are. Those moments when we get "spooked" when we are out, its there for a reason, when we meet a person and we just instinctively know they are bad news, when we know are kids are sick before they show any signs, when we can tell a friend is troubled and things weigh heavy on their mind...all of these and many more are I feel due to emotional connectedness and emotional awareness.

When someone is struggling with inner turmoil, it must radiate some sort of energy, maybe that is what we pick up on...I don't know. But I do know that he has been troubled. Some of his family members are not well, but it was not that, work has been hard, it was not that either, I knew there was more, a lot more....................

He has not mentioned my letter in the brief conversations we have had, nothing other than at one point to say to me that he was upset. All my out pourings and he was "upset". he didn't refer to the letter, just that he was upset........................and then last night I leanrt the truth, the deep down truth about what has his heart , mind and soul troubled.

Its not guilt at how he has behaved, or how he has lied and deceived me....it is that he has someone else.....

Now that in itself is not a problem. Although he said he would never do this, I did say to him, that slaveiness apart, I would understand that he has physical needs that I cannot possibly meet when I am living in far away land, but he said he was not interested.......

He has someone else.....not a slave...not a sub....no he has a "friend"..................

The reason he has been looking like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders..............yesterday she was admitted to hospital.........in labour.........................that's not an easy thing to explain I guess....no wonder he cannot find the words to answer my letter ...he is too busy thinking of words to explain what is happening...................................

Jar of hearts

IM not one who wallows around in sad music as I did when I was a broken hearted teenager....but the lyrics just seemed so appropriate

The empty road ahead

Facing reality is often more difficult in the cold light of dawn....I went out, had some wine, came home and was in bed by 11pm...managed to sleep till about 4.45am and then that was it...I lay there, awake and thinking about the past few day.......we don't ever get "the cold light of dawn " here...its dark and then its light...it hot and then as the sun comes up, its very hot.
However this morning, it was cooler, there was a pre dawn breeze and so I put on my joggers and trainers and set off into the dark, along the road, the long empty road ahead........and as I traveled between the lights that were working and the lights that were not...it all began to feel like a metaphor...dark patches...a long empty road...and i must admit, feelings of great despondency came over me, i ran faster and faster, running away, trying to leave myself behind.

As the sun crossed the horizion...I realised I had reached the beach.....and the sea was flat calm, empty, lit by the upcoming sun...soft golden pink.....I took off my shoes and stepped into the warm water................ walking along the beach.

I heard a noise, turned around...and saw a familiar car.............it was my best friend here in far away land.....she had heard me going out, she knew I was looking sad last night, noticed my trainers missing and thought I could do with some company.

 She brought cold water and hot chocolate......the road was not empty after all..........

thank you

To all of you who have been reading my blog, I want to say "thank you".
You have read, commented, lurked and supported me and for that I am thankful.
I am not going away, i wills till be here , there is still a lot to write about, a lot to say.
I ahve not heard one word from him pertaining to what I wrote...not a dicky bird. I have stopped wearing any of his "tokens" of ownership, and I will not wear them again.
 I am fine....sad...but fine..in fact so fine...im out on the razz tonight..me and my diet coke...something not right there but ...hey!
 Thanks everyone

HSxx

The truth....... no matter how much it hurts

Sometimes writing about something makes you think deep and hard. I have thought deep and I have thought hard.
I have just sent an email.
I have decided if I am writing the about the truth I must tell the truth, if nothing other than to be true to my word, and true to myself.
I have tried writing about my Uk trip , and I have put it off every day, what I have written so far is the truth, it is what has happened, how I have felt, but it is not the whole truth, and by concealing this I have felt as if there is no truth.

This was a very difficult email to write, and I have writen it...and instead of sitting on it, and pondering, I have sent it.
The truth is what is important. I have decided to put the whole email here......becasue once it is out there, then I have spoken the whole truth.....Respect and honesty.......................................

The problem with lying and being given the opportunity to face up to what has been done and said, is that unless you have courage, you don't take that opportunity when it is first offered, and the longer you leave it , the more difficult it becomes. There comes the day, when you realise there is no way out of the lie, nowhere to go, other than to keep on lying, and digging yourself deeper into a hole of both deception and self deception, until your lies become your own reality.

The problem with creating your own reality is that it is not real, it is false, made up, pretend, and no matter how much you convince yourself that your version of the truth is the real one, you know deep down it is not...and in the end, this knowledge will catch you out.

You may think that you have got away with it, you may feel that you have managed to deceive everyone else, but you have not. It is not the major things in life that give you away, it is the smallest of things...the hesitation when you are lying, the confusion, the slight mix up of dates and times, of the who, the where and the whys. And in your heart, and even though you behave like this, you do have one, you know that you have been found out, been discovered, and you long for the lie to be real, but its not, and slowly it begins to unravel, to unfold and expose the truth.

Trying to hold onto your reality is like trying to hold sand in your hands, no matter how much you want something to stay the same, to remain, to be able to keep it...it slowly slips away. If you face up to the truth, you can do something about it, rescue the reality, the truth, you can  stop the seepage of sand.....but you chose not to................. and so it is slowly but surely going...and the saddest thing of all is that the truth had been known for a while, and you would have been forgiven for creating our own reality, we all do to an extent.


You may wonder sometimes, late in your sleepless nights, how I know, how I am am so sure. Foolish people make mistakes, people who believe their own lies make mistakes, they leave their phones lying around, that make noises when messages comes through and they come on the screen, they leave laptops on, logged into places they shouldn't, and they leave their sound on when they think they have turned it off, they type the wrong message to the wrong person...simple things, easy mistakes to make...hard consequences to live with for everyone.

At the heart of everything lies two facts "truth" and "respect".

We all tell lies for all sorts of reasons, and most of them are well intentioned, but the lies used to deceive, to manipulate, to retain something that doesn't belong to you because you got it through an untruth, a lie;, these are the very worst sort of lies. These are the lies that damage people, that change lives and sometimes destroy them. These type of lies are the one that cause other people to doubt themselves, their judgement and their faith in human nature itself. These lives will also damage you, because in the end you will be left with nothing but the knowledge that you are grasping at shadows. People can stand most things, but untruths are the most hurtful of all.  No matter how much love exists between people, lies are the most destructive because they destroy the thing that relationships are based on, namely trust and respect.

Trust is not about silly things, about money lying around, or private things, its about knowing that the other person will put your welfare before their own desires, knowing that how they behave puts you at the forefront of their thinking, that they have considered the impact of their actions on you. We all make mistakes, I have, we all have, but to deliberately make someone trust you, to preach the whole 'trust' thing and all the time be lying about things, undermines everything, destroys a relationship, leaves it like a vacuum.

When trust is gone...what do you fill it with...mistrust? emptiness? doubt? which is worse..and what are you, the perpetrator of the lie left with? You are left with nothing, other than the knowledge of what you have done, what you have destroyed.

 And respect? To respect someone is to bestow them with some worth in your eyes, your heart and your conscious ........but where is the worth when you have lied, deliberately set out to deceive, to manipulate through those lies...there is no respect.....and I think ultimately there is no self respect either...in fact you are once again left with nothing.


And so where does this leave us...its leaves us with nowhere to go. That is where it leaves us.

It leaves a void in lives and an aching hearts,hearts filled with sadness , sadness at what has happened and what could have been. You have been given the opportunity before to face this and to talk and to trust what I felt, but no more.

I would have ...I really would have...with all my heart. Each morning I have woken up and hoped that you would speak the truth, that you would even just intimate something, enough for me to say  "I know", but you haven't , you haven't said anything, you have continued to deceive, to lie and to manipulate me , not in the way that is right, but in a destructive way, a way that is slowly but surely sapping out of me every shred of self respect, self belief and self worth that I have struggled so hard to gain back from a previous life. Those things that I held onto by the very skin of my teeth, that I fought to cling to in the very darkest days when I wondered if I even had the energy left to live another day. But I did. I am proud of what i did. we have talked about this , and you had told me how you admire this strength in me and yet, just like others before you are eroding it , slowly but surely.


Something, when I lie awake at night, I think that you can be no better than them, but I know you are which is what makes me saddest of all, this is the thing that hurts me the most of all...you are better than them.

I know that you are aware of this, I have looked into your eyes and you know that this moment is coming you know you cannot hold it off, you are trying so hard, but you will not tell me the truth, I know you won't..and so this will die, and with it my heart will die too.

I wish I could confront you with this directly again, but last time I did, you chose to perpetuate the lie and now you must continue it.....but we both know it is a lie. We both know. iI is only me that has the courage to admit it, I just wish I had the courage to say it to your face, but I don't. You may wonder why I don't...

The reason is......

I love you, like I have never loved anyone, and I cannot bear to see the pain in your eyes when you have to admit to yourself, if not to me, that you have been found out a long time ago, and that I can no longer live "your " lie any more. This is difficult enough, being apart, having to live what I have descirbed to you over and over again as a "half life" , a life where the best of me is missing...but the reason I am finally doing this, is that I am not prepared to allow this to done to me any more and risk loosing everything. When I came back in February it was very difficult, and i could feel "me " beginning to disappear. the reason why..... becasue I had confronted you with the truth and you had chosen not to speak, so now I am taking control and I am speaking.

A very wise person once told me..."You get treated how you let yourself be treated"...and enough is enough, I am worth more than this.

I am worth respect.

I am worth the truth.

If you cannot give them to me, then I have to take them.

I have my self respect and I have the truth.

So now what happens?

I will, one by one, be deleting every method by which I contact you, until in the end there will be no way. I will be changing my phone number, I will be deleting each and every email by which you have contacted me. I hope before I do, that you will speak to me, that you will say something...because after I am gone I will not be coming back. I will be moving at the end of this year, I will be changing jobs. I will be claiming back the truth.

I love you and will always love you, for what you have given me, for what we have shared, for what we had.........................

Lx

He counted the marks from his belt

What he was fixing up was a a selection of ropes. In the ceiling of the bedroom, was an old oak  beam, with the roof exposed above the beam. He called me upstairs, and looked at the ropes. He had arranged them so there were two loops to go over my wrists and another one for my neck, they were tied so that they wouldn't tighten or loosen if I moved, but as I stood while he tied them, I could feel them snug against my skin.

He talked to me while he was tying them, talked about our day and how much he had enjoyed it, he talked about eh ropes,a nd he talked about what was going to happen to me. He told me that he would be downstairs while i was upstairs waiting, and he would be up in a while to see that I was ok. He turned the small television on and left.

The television programme was boring, it was about antiques, but mainly it was people having their ego massaged by the  specialist confirming what they already knew, and most of them left with smug smiles on their faces, only a few genuine surprises. The volume was loud enough for me to hear it, but not so loud as to fill my head. I soon lost interest in the programme and began to think about the week ahead, hoping for things that we would do, places we may visit. I thought about what had happened so far, I smiled to myself remembering and also knowing that there would be bits that I would never remember.

My arms began to ache a little, but by shifting I could change the pull on them so as to make it bearable and the rope around my neck was fine. I found by moving my head I could actually rest it against my ear and lean on it.

I remember drifting off a little and going into a daydreaming like state, not for any other reasons than I could.

I remember thinking that he hadn't come up to see my and knowing how long the television programme was on for, I knew I had been there about an hour. It crossed my mind that maybe he had fallen asleep downstairs and had forgotten me, or maybe he was eating the dinner I had prepared,, but I couldn't smell it.
Time seemed to seep away, seeping out from under the door, and this time, I did really did drift off, not to sleep, but to that place where the control runs through you,fills your head, empties your head of other things and you know that the waiting is the important part, because it is the start of what is to come.

The next thing I recall is his hands undoing the rope around my neck and his standing behind me, his hand gently rubbing my arse................and the word floated in the air....

"Ready?"

I didn't speak...I just nodded.....and his hand came down on my arse cheek, hard and fast, full on, making a  loud loud noise, immediately filling my head, taking away all other thoughts. I began to focus on the feel of his hand on my skin, not the pain, but the feel of him...if it was his whole hand, or if it was a glancing blow; stinging, or the full hand. Feeling the warmth of his skin.

The spanking continued for a long time, and I began to cry. He stopped and stood in front of me, looking deep into my eyes.

"Why are you crying slave, does it hurt?"
I nodded and replied that yes, it did hurt.
He smiled again, "No floating off slave, now you are to count"

And with each spank, I counted and thanked him , aroud the sixty mark I was struggling, so he stopped for a while and told me there would be ten more...and there were...ten of the hardest he has ever given me.
But I continued to count, because I have found from experience, if I don't it will all start again. There were moments when he had to wait for me to say the number, but we got there in the end.

 And then he took his belt off..........................I felt the first one, I didnt count.................................

His hands reached up to me and he undid the rope from the beam and carefully lowered my arms and moved me to the end of the bed, bent me over the bed and used the rope to tie my arms to the bedhead and he fucked me; ramming himself hard into me,until he was spent.

My arse was on fire, my arms hurt, my chest was heaving and my cunt was bruised and battered from his use.

He undid my hands once more, untying the ropes and rubbing my wrists and he held me in his arms, stroking my hair, telling me he was pleased with me, that he was happy, that I was his girl, his good girl and that from now until I went back, he would use me like this, one way or another.

He wrapped me in the blanket he had brought from home, and lead me downstairs to eat.
I wasn't hungry and didn't want to eat, but he fed me bits of the meal, making me eat and then telling me I could clear up later, he sat me at his feet, still wrapped in the blanket and I fell asleep.

Later, as cleaned my teeth before going to bed he showed me my arse and my back. My arse was turning blue with deep bruises, and across my arse and back you could see the marks of the edge of the belt where he had whipped it across me.

He rubbed the cream into them , , running his finger along them, and counting them..."next time slave you will count the belt as well" and he pulled me close to him and  we drifted off tosleep

afternoon delight

We stayed up late that night, filled with delicious food, good wine and happy hearts, together again. We curled up on the sofa in the cottage and I lay with my head in his lap and we talked.

We talked about important things that had happened, we talked about unimportant thing and we just talked. No matter how much we talk on the phone, on Skype, or Yahoo...it is just not the same.........and it was so good to talk.

I fetched him drinks, poured his brandy, passed him things he needed....it was all little simple things, but things that I have missed doing for him, things I needed to do.

 When finally he said it was time to go to bed, I couldn't wait to kneel before him as he put my rope on, knowing that tonight , the other end would be in his hand. After so long sleeping apart, it always takes a few days, I fidget like mad, thrashing round in the bed, arms and legs flailing as I dream my night away, pushing the covers on and off all night long.

 He on the other hand lies still, hardly moving.

I remember him muttering at me to lie still, but its in my sleep I move more. A couple of times in the night , I felt his arm on me, keeping me still, and once he woke me up, but oh it was good to be there.

We slept till way later than I have slept in a year, it was almost 12 midday when I woke up, and for someone normally awake at 5am, it was a surprise, a shock almost. He hustled me out of bed, into the shower and sent me downstairs to make a picnic for lunch. The weather was bright and sunny, but coming from far away land , for me it was freezing. I don't own a coat, I don't own a pair of shoes, but with blankets and his coat we set off in the car. He had found one of my favourite things to do on a summer's day.

We pulled up at a village cricket ground; just a little one, and we set out the picnic rug and lay under an old oak tree and watched two local teams play cricket. We ate out lunch and he lay next to me dozing in the warm(for him) sunshine. After the lunch break was over, we watched more cricket and then slowly packed the picnic and walked around the village to the local pub and had a drink. He laughed when I asked if i could have a pint of bitter...."no" was his answer..."two halves".

We sat in the old pub, listening to the locals talk about local issues, about the state of the country, the world and I felt completed immersed in England once more and yet completely detached from it too.
It was time to go back to the cottage and get organised with dinner....but before dinner he helped me make baklava, which is one of my very favourite food, and as I pottered around int eh kitchen getting some food I could hear him upstairs in the room..............and I wondered what he was fixing up.

The level of control

He took my hand in his and held it tightly, he told me how much he had missed me and how he had dreamed of this moment, when I was once again  truly his.

He told me that he knew my heart was his, and now he had reclaimed my mouth as his, it was time for the next part of me.

He sent me into the bathroom for a shower and told me to make sure that when I returned that I was dry. I spent a long time in the bathroom, running through in my mind what had happened , what I was feeling and wondering what would be next.

I returned to the bed room and there on the bed was a bag, smallish but long .I knelt at the end of the bed and waited for him.


His hand reached to my chin and lifted my face to his...............he smiled and slowly tied a blindfold over my eyes, soft black material completely covering my eyes, blocking out the light. He took my hand once more and laid it on his chest above his heart and then moved it to my chest and did the same.

"Be a good girl and don't fight me, don't complain".

He took my hand behind my back and began to tie a rope around my wrist and then the other, pulling them together, the rope ran up my arms to my elbows and I felt him tie them off.

 Then very slowly and carefully he began to wind a different rope, a rough rope around my chest, under my tits and over the top, pulling tighter and tighter with each go, and I felt the rope tighten around my tits, pushing them , squeezing them, the blood restricted them, swelling quickly...my nipples  tight.

 I stood as still as I could while he worked, he ocassionally adjusted my body's stance; moving me, rearrnaging me very slightly.

He took the first rope and pulled my arms upwards and backwards slightly, and then wound the rope once around my neck, pulling it, pushing the rope between my tightly bound tits. I realised he had tied the rope round the rope there and then he ran it between my legs and tied it back onto the loop around my wrists.

I now stood very still, knowing that if I moved the rope would either tighten around my neck, pull the other rops tighter around my tits or dig deeper into my cunt.

He kissed me and told me to open my mouth and as I did, he placed a thin cord over my tounge and told me to keep it there, and then very carefully and gently he attached each end to one of my nipple bars. He warned me if I let go of the cord we would start all over again.

I stood still as I felt him check the ropes; he checked the rope around my neck, he kept checking it throughout the whole session, to make sure I was ok.

He walked around me, talking about what he could see, what he liked and then without warming he slapped my tits very hard and as he did he said "cord". I had opened my mouth to gasp, but shut it quickly.

I waited for the next slap...and it came...................... along with the pinching, the squeezing, poking, probing, examining.  He pulled on the ropes till they were cutting into me, deep inside my cunt, the rough rope burning.

The slaps on my swollen tits hurting, stinging, filling them with heat and pain.

I stood, taking it, knowing this was what he needed...........it was hard, it hurt, but he needed for me to do as I was told, to take what he was giving me.

I longed for it to stop.
In my head I stopped it and began to imagine him undoing the rope, stopping the pain. I imagined his arms around me once more, but it continued, and with each movement, each response to his actions, one bit of rope or another bit deeper, tightened,...hurt. And every time I moved my head the neck rope would tighten and loosen, and the cord tied to my nipple bars would jerk and pull, sending hot rods of pain deep inside me

And then it did stop.

He leaned close into me.........his lips brushing my ear..............."Stay still, remember the cord" and I heard him leave the room and turn on the bath and I knew it was over soon. I held that cord so tight in my teeth.I did not want it to start again, I really didn't.

He cam back in and I felt his damp fingers on my wrists and slowly he began to undo the ropes, pulling the rough rope gently out of my cunt, gently massaging my wrist and arms, but still leaving the blindfold on.

And he picked me up and carried me to the bathroom, and stood me up , and helped me into the warm  water, the smell of jasmine filling the air, and as he undid the blindfold and  took it away, he was all I could see.

He kissed me once more and said.

"Thank you, slave. Stay there, I will be back."

He returned with a cold glass of champagne and sat on the edge of the bath watching while I lay there relaxing, and then helped me dry myself as I got out.

I went back into the bedroom, where my clothes now lay on the bed, with a beautiful new necklace, made from silver and garnets......and he told me to dress, we had a dinner booking.

I was very unslavely and leapt at him, flung my arms around his neck, wrapped my legs around his waist and covered his face with kisses.

He laughed so loud, gently pushed me away, then flung me on the bed, slapped my arse and told me to be quick.

"open!"

When I woke up, I still didnt want to open my eyes, in case it was all a dream....but as I opened them, he was there, looking at me, watching my face, watching me. He smiled at me and the smile reached his eyes and into his heart and soul and filled me with joy.

His hand reached behind my head, and he stroked my hair, and I felt his hand slowly tighten in my hair, twisting it slowly, until I knew it would hurt more to move than to stay still.
 He moved his face closer to mine...never taking his eyes from mine...........................and he kissed me. And in that kiss I tasted his longing, his passion, and the months of separation. I also felt his control and his need .

Pulling me gently away from his face, and with a glint in his eye, he tightened his grip on my hair, and very slowly pushed my head down the bed.

He held my face just a breath away from the end of his swollen penis and told me to lick the tip..........I needed to take him in my mouth to please him, to taste him, to be filled my him..................and yet all he let me do was lick the very tip of him, I could hear my breath getting sharper, little moans of pleasure and frustration escaping . I looked at his face and his eyes were half closed with pleasure......not so much at the licking but at the control.
I wanted to be.I open my mouth to speak, and he tightened his grip, so I stopped.

With the other hand he reached to my nipple and pinched it hard, making me gasp........."lick slave".
and as he played with my nipple,; flicking , pulling, twisting, squeezing, pulling the bar and twisting it............I continued to lick the tip of his cock.

"Open"

I didn't know what to open , so I opened my eyes more, opened my legs and opened my mouth wide.
He laughed a great chuckle and thrust his cock deep into my throat, and pushing my head down , he trust over and over again, until I was gagging, drooling and gasping for breath, tears rolling down my face , he eased a little , let me get my breath and then................shot a huge load of cum deep into the back of my throat.
Letting go of my hair , and resting my head on his leg, he stroked my cheek with his cock still in my mouth.....

"Welcome home slave"

He ran his finger down my spine

I lost internet, but finally have it back...so back to the summer holiday.

I waited there, kneeling by the bed, my ears straining to hear the slightest sound floating up from down the stairs. I could hear the birds singing outside, and I noticed the passing of time. I don't wear a watch, I never have, and am usually a pretty good judge of the passing of time....but there are certain situations where it seems to warp, to change. And kneeling waiting is one of them.
I realised I had been there a while, when I noticed that the puddle of sunshine on the floor had moved considerably, and I wondered how long I had been there. I cannot tell you what I had been thinking, because I don't know, but suddenly I was aware of someone in the house.

I could not hear anything specific, but I just knew someone was inside. For a moment, panic filled me. What if it was a burglar, or worse an axe murderer, and he would come up the stairs and find me. I could not hear the stairs creak...but i just knew. I shut my eyes and waited some more, trying to clam my breathing.

I heard a gentle sigh and felt the air in the room move around me, and then I smelt him, not aftershave....him....I didnt want to break the spell...I kept my eyes closed.............................


Very................ very................. very slowly............... he ran a finger down my spine...almost not touching.........I shivered in anticipation..............then his hands went under my arms and he pulled me gently to my feet.....My eyes still closed I stood before him and he picked me up, and carefully lay down on the bed with me.

I could feel the softness of his suit under my fingers, the crispness of his shirt, and it crossed my mind..."who ironed it?", I think I must have smiled because he laughed gently, and wrapping his arms around me , he pulled me closer and closer until there was not one bit of my body not touching him..................and six months of missing him began to fall away.

 Tears seeped from my eyes, slowly at first, and then faster and faster until my cheeks was wet and I heard sobbing and realised it was me, and not once did he loosen his grip on me. I clung to him like a raft in an ink black sea, and slowly the blackness faded, the pain of separation, the physical and emotional longing for him began to dissipate and I bizarrely fell asleep.

A note on the table

He sent me an address, that was all I had. Just an address in a text. I looked it up on the internet and got some directions. It was about 3 hour drive from where I was. I had no instructions on what to wear or what to do when I got there, nothing , just an address. I resisted the temptation to see if I could see what the place looked like.

Driving in the car, I could feel my excitement mouting, my stomach leaping with anticiaption, my mouth dry. Excited, scared, happy, apprehensive, really it was the whole gammit of emotions all rolled into one.

I wished I could be there straight away, but also wished the miles would go slower...I was nervous. I had not seen him for nearly six months.

I followed the instructions,t he houses became more and more spread out until I turned into lane and could see, at the end, a small cottage, but no car, no familar old car waiting for me.

A note was attachd to the front door with a pin. "The key is in the same place it is a home". I looked and he was right, it was, pushd into a flower pot, deep in the soil. I pulled it out and brushed it off. I slid the key into the lock, opened the door and stepped stright into the smal living room. It was beamed, with a big fireplace and beautifully furnished. I put my bag down and walked to the kitchen. There on the table was my rope, curled up, with a note on top of it.

"You know what to do"

 And he was right, I did know what to do. I took the rope and walked up the stairs, stripped slowly and carefully folded my clothes, and piling then up on the floor and knelt down beside the end of the bed.

The floorbaords had been warmed by the sun coming in the window and I looked around the room at the big comfy bed, the small windows, with the curtains wafting in the warm summer breeze. I looked around and could see a chest of drawers, a door tot eh bathroom and a wooden chest.

 I knelt back on my heels and waited to hear the door downstairs open.

oh help..where is all the text

I finally get round to catching up on blogs i have missed , only to find I cant see the text, has this happened to anyone else... for example,mouse's blog is just not there, just a background...any sugesstions anyone on what to do?
 Thank you

Back together again

Well you know how it is, for one reason or another you loose contact with a friend, and then the longer you leave it, the harder it gets. And this is how this feels, I feel like I have abandoned my poor old blog and it was so hard to get back into the mindset where I wanted to write again. Also I miss all of you. I feel I have made some really good friends on here; people who understand how I think and feel, people who knwo where I am coming from, people who tell me how it is, and are thoughtful, deep thinking, but also hilariously funny, don't take themselves too seriously...in fact just the type of people I have as friends in "real" life...so...here I am...back....in the mood and ready to write again.

My holiday back home to the Uk was a mixed time, full of happiness, sadness, quiet, peace, wild passion, overwhelming love and laughter, the type that you can only have with those you love.

There is so much to tell you, so much to write about, but the first thing is guess is that I nearly didn't make it at all. The second plane I took home was full...and I mean FULL. It was full of people, luggage and cargo. We more or less ambled down the runway, we didn't seem to be getting any faster at all, in fact at one point I could have kept up on an old horse. I began to worry slightly, and then slightly more and then the odd "holy shit" crossed my mind, then it just sort of came out of my mouth. My lovely daughter looked at me and asked if we were going fast enough. Now she may be young in the greater scheme of things...but the girl has a carbon footprint, she knows.......she know planes, take off speed, how they feel, she knows that runway, that one ni particular. She looked at me and said "Mum, we ARE going to take off aren't we?"

 I love flying, in fact I'm a little obsessed with it and am now trying to work out if i can get my license while I am here. I have friends who fly these big planes and they have told me........................people all over the plane were beginning to worry and then finally the nose lifted......just...and then we had maybe 100 feet from where I was sitting to the end of the runway..........and that was it.....we made it by the skin of our teeth , powered by the will of the people on board to live.....all over the plane people were sighing...it was really not pleasant..

 The next 13 hours were uneventful...well actually I'm sure that's not true...the whole crew and passengers could have partied the night away to disco Stew from the Simpsons...but I had two little blues pills.,....one to put me to sleep and one to keep me asleep......oh thank you chemist the world over.....I woke up twenty two minutes before we landed...just time to go brush my teeth, wash and change my knickers.

Then the whole customs, baggage etc stuff took just forever, and we were frozen, really frozen, shivering in our jeans and jumpers looking like drug dealers from far away.

Finally collecting our baggage we got a bus to the car hire place and went to get the car. We were not being met, we were driving to my other daughters house to stay for a few day, my owner having decided this was the best way to get my full attention when I saw him.

As I filled in the form, I heard a familiar voice, turned around, and there they were...my girls....oh my family together again. Two little arms flung around my neck, my face covered in kisses, laughter, tears, more hugs, English chocolate and more kisses.

Although we were tired and had an hours drive in the middle of the night, it didnt matter, I had my family together again.

We drove home in convoy and I slept in the bed with my little Blondie with the beautiful curls and sometime in the night my big daughter got in, and early in the morning my jet lagged daughter got in too....how could one person have so much happiness and still more to come...I love my kids.What a perfect start to a holiday.