Can you imagine?
It has been a year.
A year ago, I asked him
A year ago, I begged him
I asked if I might serve him.
And he said - of course.
It's easy enough to go back and read the history, all the ups and downs, all the hints at this and that. Of course, there are things I haven't told and never will, and now the plans he waggles before me, like feathers at the end of a stick dangled above the head of a cat, always just out of reach no matter how high she jumps.
He has a new plan for me, which sounds as if it will be hatched sooner than the gang rape in the storeroom above the biker/thug bar. I am happy with the new plan. I am happy at the thought of proving my obedience.
There isn't much more to say. He was here last Friday lunchtime, after a 3-week absence, and I have given him my schedule in hopes of his setting a time for a project involving a few hours together.
I am happy.
Not a very titillating statement, but there it is.
Perhaps I need to write some smut for you all. Just for a change from all this sentimental contentedness.