Overly sentimental

Happily home.

The visit went well, the traveling wasn't bad, despite having to change planes and hang out in Atlanta. The praise I received from my folks seemed to far exceed the little jobs I did for them, but obviously that wasn't the point.

The philosopher gave me permission to call him when I landed in Florida. I'm not sure if anyone could really hear what I was saying to him, but anyone who did manage to eavesdrop would have been a bit... shall we say perturbed? Unless of course they were kinky themselves.

My cunt twitched for much of the weekend. I was given arbitrary times for leaving phone messages, which always keeps me on edge and off-kilter. Lovely...

When I got to the gate on the first leg of the trip home, I sat down near a man who could have been assumed to be a dom. He was a large man, with large hands and large fingers and a shaved head. Of course, such assumptions are ridiculous. Deity has a post buried somewhere in his archives which describes his appearance as giving no hint of the sadistic mind behind the boyish face. All of which inspired the following bit of submissive sentimentality, tossed off on a pad of lined yellow paper as I waited for my row to be called. It doesn't end the way I want it to, but I'm too sleepy to mess with it. Anything about his sadism should always end with the caresses and kisses and murmured "you're my goode kitten now..."

Please forgive me for having nothing else to offer until tomorrow - and thanks to those who read and commented and donated while I was away.
* * * * * * * * *

he isn't scary looking, my master.
his face is sweet and open.
his height is enfolding, holding no threat.
his eyes don't glare, his hands are soft,
his hair is long, and red like mine.
his voice is...

his voice holds the threat.
he rules with his words and his voice.
i submit to his words and his voice.

and then to the cane.

and then to the cane and the pain.