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So fucking soft but I can’t lie in it

So fucking warm but I can’t bask in it

Instead it’s tight fit fetter cuffs

Composed of knots that I made up

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Monday

“Come back upstairs for a second, I want to try something” he says and I do. He puts handcuffs on me and threads a rope through them, tying my hands to the door hinge high above my head. “I think that will work” he says, I hear the smile in his voice. He hits me twice, three times lightly with the small flogger. My skin tingles and aches for more. He lets me down and unlocks the cuffs swiftly, kissing me lightly on the forehead. “That will definitely work”.

We go back downstairs and both feel slightly better about our lives, because of even such a brief transaction.

I have a new editor apparently, just got the email about it. So that could be good or bad, depending. It’s a guy and I prefer working with women usually, but my first ever editor Bob Smith was pretty okay, and I wasn’t happy with my last one and she was a lady… so we will see. I need to sleep now, I really really should. Tomorrow holds lots of responsibilities

Drakkar noir

Still awake! Making a sort off habit of making these little entries when I should be asleep. I feel slightly sick still, my throat hurts and itches and my sinuses feel hella clogged up. Hopefully i will fall asleep soon. I like my phone and it is pretty dope and useful. Still no steady work, I am getting nervous and thinking about applying to some other jobs. Not going to think about it now. I’m gunna try to go to the gym tomorrow, even though I’m not feeling great. Two days with no exercise doesn’t sit still. I don’t want to make it 3. Ok nocturnes, I’m going to try and sleep before the sun comes up.

Aaaw! He looks like an Insane drunken angel!

He buys me little gifts just just just just because, and flowers and love and I’m glad i am his and no other’s.  Sleep and snore right next to me and i adore the calm fall and rise of your chest. I want you to only ever see me at my very best. I forgot how to write love poems, simply ramble on about the homes i imagine we could build and all the soil your hands would till, be still my heart be still.