… that I have for a while now referred to my leash instead of the leash. It is my leash not in the sense that I own it but in the sense that it’s a part of me. My lips, my breasts… and my leash.
… that while I was never uncomfortable with Master McKenna, I now feel in a kind of pleasing rhythm with him. Maybe this is because his expectations are more fully clear. Or maybe it’s because he is fucking me.
… that Amanda does things one-off. That is, she tries things once — baring me to the trash men, making me wear chains from my labia while grocery shopping — but doesn’t go back to those things again. Once done, they bore her.
… that I am more often now, of my own choice, wearing a collar to bed. I have begun feeling naked without a collar on. I like the weight of it. It’s somehow a comfort at night.
… that I am strangely okay with the idea Amanda will present me topless to the neighbors at the barbecue this weekend.
… that my occasional meltdowns are somewhat predictable. They seem to operate on a schedule, every so many months. It’s like there’s one little unsubmissive piece of me that lies dormant for so long, then has to speak up and protest. It does its little rebellion rant, then goes on mute once again.
…that I really like it when in a public place, Amanda comes to my side, puts her arm around my waist, and whispers something explicit into my ear, usually about how she wants to watch me with someone else. She likes seeing me blush and get all freckly.