Mac and I went for a long walk yesterday afternoon. We held hands. We talked a lot about this other Him and what He means to me. There were some that thought my previous post meant that I wanted this other 'Him' to be my reality but that's not what I was trying to say. What my post meant was that Mac is everything to me, but He isn't everything He could be and I felt guilt over that. How could I possibly want more? Talk about being bloody greedy! I have a Man in my life that is unbelievably good to me and I sat there yesterday and told Mac that I was disappointed that He couldn't be my 'Him' and hearing Him say it back to me ripped at my heart.

Thing is, I am a little disappointed that Mac isn't that Him, but it's ok for me to feel that way. It's also very ok for Mac not to be that Him. You are all right, that Him is a fantasy that will never be filled and probably should never be filled but damn it Mac comes close. I am firmly sticking to what I have. My very own Male. My Mac.

This morning I stood in the shower with my hands, face breasts and stomach pushed up against the wall. I thought 'god this feels nice.' Then I thought 'why does this feel nice?' Then I thought 'shut up and just enjoy the way it feels.' Then I thought 'ok but why does this feel nice?'

ARGH!

Why couldn't I just enjoy the feeling without analysing it? I just wanted a few moments peace from my brain. It wouldn't co-operate. So instead of enjoying it, I stood there with my front aching from the cold tiles and my back burning from the heat of the water and I thought about why I have to think about things all the time.

Mac has a theory about why women can take more pain then men. His theory is that men tend to focus only on one thing at a time, where as women always have 20% of their mind thinking about shoes. Apparently men can think 100% about the pain they are in, women can only focus 80% of their minds on pain. I don't give a toss about shoes. I own a pair of runners, two pairs of high heels (one black pair, one white pair) a pair of court shoes, a pair of sandals and a pair of hiking boots. Oh and my fuck off bitch boots that I am only allowed to wear when He wants me too.

Now according to His theory, I suffer from shoe attention deficiency syndrome (SADS) which means that I have too much of my brain unoccupied at any given time. This of course leads to me thinking too much about everything else.

While I think His theory is highly amusing, I also see some truth to it, at least for me. There are a lot of things the average person has to think about that I just don't have right now. There is no job pressure, there is no money trouble, there are no children and we still haven't even been to pick out any kittens! My biggest worries of the day are making sure I have the ingredients for dinner and what I am going to wear. I can go out if I want. I can stay in if I want. I can basically do whatever I want to do.

I get bored, especially when He isn't around. I try to make sure I am doing things but most things I do take very little thought. I keep music on so that I am singing. I read. I have taken up countless different craft projects, each of which I learn with ease and get bored with after I have created my first or second masterpiece. Once I know I can do it, the challenge is gone. I have thought about going back to school but there is nothing that really piques my interest. I have thought about going back to work but I don't wish to pursue my old career and there is nothing else I really want to do.

This means I have a lot of time to think about Him. I have a lot of time to think about us. I have a lot of time to turn little problems into monstrous and insurmountable life threatening situations that require urgent and immediate attention from Him right now! He often looks at me rather bemused and tells me to relax and smile. I sometimes forget that life does not have to be constantly hurtling along from one crisis to the next, that sometimes it can just be what it is. Sweet.

I have tried to remember what it was I thought about while I was chained to the bed for all those hours. I am not sure how long it was all up but there was a lot of time spent that I had absolutely nothing to do except lie there and wait. I didn't think about any problems and I didn't think about what I needed for dinner. I didn't think about what I wanted to wear or where I would go tomorrow or even what I would do once He unchained me.

I had become His sexual toy the moment that He said He wanted me and I was totally focused on that. I thought about His semen leaking from my pussy and the way my hardened nipples felt when they grazed the sheets. I thought about how much His cock can swell and how it pulsed when He came. I thought about what He would require from me when He returned and I thought about giving Him everything He wanted. I was aware of the way the sheets felt against me. I moved constantly to the cooler spots on the bed to tease my already sensitive skin. I rubbed my thighs together to ease the throbbing in my clitoris. I savoured the aftertaste of His semen in my mouth. I was a little sensation whore. A little Mac junkie who could only think of her last hit and fantasise about the next hit to come. I enjoyed the rest time almost as much as I enjoyed the being used time and even when I was dozing I woke at the slightest noise in the house. I was always ready for Him.

This was not the first time I have spent time chained to the bed, nor do I imagine that it will be the last time. It also wasn't the longest time I have been left that way, His need yesterday was strong and His penis was definitely in charge. It is rare that Mac allows His desire to get the better of Him. He is normally so completely in control. These past few days have been an experience in the rare. I have enjoyed it all.

I wrote this tiny little piece one day after He had left me tied to the bed. I don't recall what He did to me before He left, though it seems to have been rather rough sex. I don't recall what happened when He returned, though I know He did return.


"His slut awoke and her first thought was of His cock and how His balls must have filled while they were apart. She pulled against the bindings on her wrists and whimpered as they chafed her raw skin. She shifted and felt all the tender and abused places on her body cry out. She ached, she hurt, and all she could think of was His return to use her again.

He would come to her and lick her softly and love her gently and she would smile happily and tell Him that she loved Him.

He would come to her and hit her again and again and use the whip on the places that already stung and she would whimper with joy and tell Him of her love for Him.

He would come to her and watch her while she begged for Him to touch her and He would tell her no and turn and leave and she would whisper to the empty room of her love for Him.

She only cared that He would come to her.

Her body shivered and her nipples stiffened into peaks as a cool breeze hissed across the tiny breaks in her skin and she waited quietly for His return, knowing that when He did she would scramble to her knees, and bow her head, and wait for Him to tell her of His desire.

He was all that she required."