Insert Clever Title Here

It's 12:30 a.m., I'm steeped in euphoria and my mind is mush. Damned if I can think of a blog title. I consider it nothing short of miraculous that I can think of my own name at the moment.

Maybe I should wait until tomorrow morning to write. Oh, wait -- it IS tomorrow morning. Never mind.

OK, so this blog will be somewhat incoherent. I guess I'll have to put myself in my own Correspondence Hall of Shame. (Speaking of which, I have some real winners for the next one.)

Mr. D and I spent nearly two hours catching up before even one swat landed. I wanted to hear all about his Thanksgiving, his visit from his kids, etc. So when we finally settled down to play, I was beyond ready.

I just adore this man's hand. The rest of him isn't too shabby either.

He poked a little fun at me as I squirmed. "You feeling that, baby?"

"Maybe," I grumbled.

WHACK! "Is that still a maybe?"

I shook my head. "Now it's a 'no'; is that better?"

It wasn't, apparently. Well, I figured I had a 50/50 chance.

He's also fond of saying, "Who's in charge here?" To which I'm fond of answering, "I am." That, too, is always the wrong answer, but I keep forgetting.

I can't fool him, though. I might sass and complain and be flippant, but my panties don't lie. "Really, is that all for me?" he teased.

Oh, for @#$%'s sake. What is it with tops asking the same damn questions all the time? "No, it's for Justin Bieber," I snapped.

"Go ahead, say that again," he said as he laid into me. I chose not to.

I have bad news for the panties-down aficionados. We shot pictures of both up and down, honest. But I guess those didn't come out, or he overlooked them, because he didn't send those to me. Sorreeeeee! Next time, I promise.

Tonight was a first of sorts. Besides the leather strap and lexan paddle, Mr. D caned me. It was a first for both us and for him; he'd never used one before. We took a short time-out so I could briefly tell him about caning technique, and then I bowed out and he took over. I've broken most of my rattan canes, so we used Delrin. OUCH. I'd forgotten how much that damn thing hurts; it had been a while. He was good with it, but after a few minutes with that biting sting, I was at the edge. When he picked up the lexan again, that put me over.

He knows when I'm done. He hears the difference in my sounds, how I go from muffled screeches to gasps and whimpers. He sees how my feet stop twisting together and go limp. "All right, honey," he whispers. "Relax."

I immediately curled onto my side.

After he put the camera down, he lay next to me and gathered me up. My hands clutched fistfuls of his shirt as I wept sweet, cleansing tears.

There is that perfect moment, right after I've calmed down, but before reality sets back in. Where I'm wrapped up in strong arms, my bottom is stinging but my mind is quiet. And the sense of peace and bliss is so overwhelming, I'm nearly beside myself. Who needs alcohol? Screw pot. Mr. D is my wonder drug.

Sadly, while my nether regions stayed warm, my feet were freezing. So Mr. D put my socks back on. Let it not be said that I can't be photographed looking like a nerd. :-)

Jeeez, faded already!

Good night, kids. If I stay up one more minute, my head is going to crash down on the keyboard and m,ikkkku7hy6uy7hj~