No Rest for the Wicked

Ramblings of a confused sadist.

Christmas came around.  Spent a few days with my family, which obviously made it near impossible to get any kind of relief.  Although I am home now, I’ve decided to abstain a little longer.

My love arrives tomorrow night.  That will have then been 3 whole nights of abstinence.  Why abnegate?  I guess I wanted to see if I could, save myself for my love (so he can see what an animal i become) and also to get a sense of what he goes through when i make him circumlocute.  He’s gone for almost a week no, and i’m struggling after 2 nights…

It’s hard not to just touch.  Being in a constant state of arousal – racing pulse, i can feel my heart in my chest, i can feel each breath, hyper-sensitive touch, sound… it’s so hard to abstain.  Tempted to open up some photos I have of him, to see his naked flesh.  That would probably drive me over the edge though.  This is practiced self-control, I guess it can’t hurt.

I like the feeling of my nails on his skin.  I like how he reacts to it.  I like the marks it leaves to remind me of how it felt a that time.

There’s certain areas of his body much more sensitive to pain than others.  I like to play on that, without dwelling too long there and making the experience too much for him.  The longer I make him last, the more I get out of it after all.

The innermost of his thigh areas are incredibly sensitive to pain.  When I sink my nails in there, I can feel his muscles contract and his body shiver as it tries to cope with the feeling.  His sides too, the further i drift from the centre of his body when toying with his chest or back, the more reactive he is to the pain I inflict.

Got them manicured today.  This isn’t the longest I’ve had them of course – it’s probably the shortest in quite a while.  But they are pretty, aren’t they?

I prefer them unmanicured though.  They’re much sharper, the varnish gives them almost a blunted effect which just… doesn’t feel the same.  I guess it’s the nail-equivalent to wearing a condom.  It can still feel good, but it takes a lot away, you don’t feel as much.

Well, I have another 6 days left before I see him again.  I imagine the french polish will have worn off by then.

Absent, empty, a little lost, shivering.  Like when someone lends you their coat on a really cold night then takes it away after you just got used to the warmth.  I feel a little like that.  You’ve probably guessed that he’s back in London again.  Two weeks have passed now, I have another week of this… coldness left, then I get him, for two whole nights.

Been making do with texts and skyping and webcams.  We had some cam fun last night.  Online domination is something I’ve done a little bit of in the past, but I never really felt like my previous subjects were feeling it … more doing it, just to get off.  He wants it, he needs it, he needs what I have to offer him.  I love watching him, I love watching how the light bounces off his perfect little body as he writhes around on the bed for me.  I love watching how hard it makes him to be told what to do, how he accepts his punishments with sobs and humility.  I love watching him struggle with the boundary between pain and pleasure.  I love holding him there.  He’s beautiful. He’s my little angel.  I miss him.  I need him.

Writing always feels a little more crude when I’m menstrual   I find it hard to get off at this time of the month – I guess that’s why… there’s a lot of frustration inside me at the moment.  I’m not really a once-a-day kinda girl.  I’m a little more addicted than that.

Sitting alone, dark room, in front of an open fire, wrapped up in a blanket just listening to the silence.  He went back home today.  He doesn’t live with me yet – he will soon.  6 more weeks until I can keep him forever.  I don’t like when he leaves.  I tried my best to hide my tears as he was running off to catch his bus to the airport but a bit unsuccessfully this time.

I walked through my empty house earlier, each tiny little thing reminded me of him.  I went to the side door to have a cigarette and pictured him standing there in his dressing gown, naked underneath, looking over at me arms open and waiting for embrace.  Turning the kettle on to make tea, I can see him sitting on my sofa playing with his phone as I set his cup in front of him, he looks up at me smiling and saying “thanks love”. Standing in the shower, I washed myself almost too quickly, it felt so lonely and empty without him standing grinning at me, all soaped up and looking beautiful.  Lying in bed, looking over at the big empty space where he sleeps like a little angel.  When I cook for him, he cuddles me afterwards and thanks me, every time, or kisses me – I’m not used to that.  I’m used to being taken for granted and forgotten about… more of an invisible shadow than the other part of something special.  He makes me feel special all of the time.  Not just sometimes.  I want him to know that I appreciate and notice all the little things he does to make me feel like that.  I do notice love.  Thank you.

So here I sit, alone, in the darkness, beside the fire, cat curled up at my feet, hot tears running down my cheeks because more than anything in the world, all I want is to feel him close to me.