Hooray for hypersexuality!

It's official! According to today's article in the New York Times about the coming update of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders:

[A] new description of sex addiction, is “hypersexuality,” which, in part, is when “a great deal of time is consumed by sexual fantasies and urges; and in planning for and engaging in sexual behavior.”

Now this sounds pretty good to me.
In fact it sounds just like me.

Hypersexuality.

Much better than sex addiction. That just sounds icky. Whereas hypersexuality sounds very suitable to an instinctual, creative, and poetic soul such as myself. It's sort of like "hypersensitive." Not, though, hypersensitive as in much too likely to have a temper tantrum. Perhaps I was like that once. OK, I was definitely like that once. But my Master has most pretty much cured me of that. I can't even conceive of a submissive being a brat. It doesn't go with being submissive.

she slaps her own cheek lightly.
stop digressing.
maintain focus.

OK, where was I?

Hypersensitive.

Hypersensitive the way an artist is, seeing things, feeling things, skin and nerve endings and brain cells all tuned to pick up the slightest hint of inspiration and stimulation.

Stimulation.

I've taken down the walls.
Taken off my clothes.
Opened my mind and my
body to the beat of life and
love that fills the universe.
It comes to us as desire,
an unchained, sparkling
desire. I stand here
naked before you, I raise
my arms and my tits
rise too, and I say to
the world and to God
who is everything -
Yes!
Just as God is in
everything, so is sex.

And with this loving naked
body, I embrace the term.
Hypersexuality.
I seek no treatment,
I require no cure.
I welcome what I am
and kneel before my Master.
Hallelujah.