chosen one

Amanda started something with me in January. This has nothing to do with the Dayna conversation a week ago, but I feel I need to mention it now, in full disclosure.

Each week she wants me I to select one person in our lives whom I find myself attracted to, someone I would like to be with. As in “be with.” As in “sleep with.” As in “get fucked by.”

Each week, I am to tell Amanda who that person is, and maybe one thing about that person that I notice and desire. The person can be male or female. It could be a celebrity, but she prefers it to be someone we know in our daily lives.

Sunday is the day I am to name for her this person, my Chosen One that week.

We are extremely open with each other about so many things, and yet she feels I am still sort of closed with her about my specific desires and attractions when I feel them. I usually write about things after they happen to me, but she wants to know my sexual feelings and interests real-time. Who I fantasize about or who turns me on in the moment. This forces me to do that.

It’s also, obviously, another way for her to control me. She just loves coming up with this stuff. Like I was ever worried she had run out of ideas.

So sometime tomorrow she will prompt me, “So who is it this week?”

I will reply with something like, “The One this week is Mr. Jones.”

She will nod and smile at me.

“I like the way he dresses. That suit at the meeting… And he seemed confident without being narcissistic.”

“Did he make you wet?” I will say yes or no, or some other word. We have a language for this now — “buzz,” tingle,” “sigh,” “salivate,” “drip,” a few others — words that have meanings referring very specifically to my various sexual responses.

We may talk this way for a short while, and then Amanda will prompt me, “So?”

And I will reply, “Mistress, would you please give me to Mr. Jones for him to fuck me?” I am to say this each and every week to her about my Chosen One. Formal as it is, I feel a kind of increased desire in simply saying the actual words to her.

She’ll pause and then say, “I’ll think about it.”

It is a game of sorts, and she is making up rules as she goes along. She added a submissive angle to it a couple weeks ago.

Once in her presence I called it “our thought game,” and she called me on it: “Why do you say ‘thought’?”

“Because it’s imagined not real.”

“Do you doubt I could make it real?”

“No, Mistress.”

She wants me to write and post this each week (of course she would need to make it public) but she hasn’t figured out how to do that when it’s involving real people who are otherwise unaware.

Like Mr. Jones’s wife might not be so happy about reading it here.