My place is face down on the floor.

This morning we were able to talk, I was able to see him.

I woke in the night and realised that he was there. I said hello, and he told me to go back to sleep and then I struggled and struggled to sleep...wanting to talk to him, wanting to hear his voice.. but he as having none of it.

I tried again, I interrupted what he was doing.............and he ignored me.

I tried once more.........and I was told to do as I had been told.

When I woke up at the proper time, I greeted him as I always do, waiting to be allowed to get up and he left me there. I didn't want to call his attention again, I knew he knew I was there and so I waited ...almost patiently.

When he was ready, we talked. We talked about the last few days where we have had little contact about what I had been doing, how I was feeling and he said I looked like I was feeling a little lost, I told him I was fine, he said I looked lost, I said I was fine.....................he was right.

We had more discussion about how I was feeling, the conclusion that he came to was that I needed reminding of my place............so still in my rope which binds my feet, no more than 4 inches apart, up my back, round my neck and my hands bound before me in a noose, I was sent to stand my the wall with the pegs on my nipples and I was to think of nothing but him, to ignore any noise, any sound I heard, any thought that entered my head I was to dispel and I was to wait.

I stood for two hours.

When he called me back I knelt before him. 

I had to get the hood and place it over my head and then tie my hands behind my back.

I was instructed to lie face down on the floor, cross my legs at the ankle and to wait.

It is difficult to lie down without smacking your your head on the floor, somehow I managed it and as I lay down and felt the pegs on my nipples dig in, his voice filled my head.

"This is your place, this is where you will wait for me, you are a slave, this is your place."

And so that is it. From now on. I do not have to wait  like that for him to appear, but once I am talking to him, if he tells me to wait, I will wait like that; hooded, face down, legs crossed with the pegs on my nipples pressing into me to remind me of what I am and where my place is.

Pain is a gift from him.

Sight is a gift from him.

Movement is a gift from him.

An unrestricted breath is a gift from him.

His time is a gift.

Any can be given and any can be taken away.

He knows I am there and I must wait until he is ready and if he is not ready, I must wait anyway.