i heaved the heaviest of sighs when i realized the duration he'd be gone. obviously, what with us living about fifteen hours apart, the amount of time we get to spend together (i.e. fucking each others brains out) is severely limited. so we're mostly connected through our cell phones and gmail accounts. it's rough. really rough. but i've accepted that it is what it is because it's supposed to be this way right now...and find ways to make it work.
dirty photos via text, dirty text messages, phone sex, etc. and he gives me directives here and there. (you may have noticed how much i enjoy receiving directives from him...)
thirty-seven days of even more restricted contact. it was rough already. really rough. but now, it's like going on some sort of vision quest.
i can't do my daily assignment. the thought made my heart sink. (i've been instructed to call him every day on my lunch break.) i can't send a text saying, "let me see you...please?" and receive a photo several minutes later...sink, sink, sink.
readers, this is mental bondage.
at least i have my collection of cock photos to salivate over.
i also have a list of directives to follow. a couple days before he left, i was sitting outside on my lunch break...enjoying a particularly nice day...and had been "let off the hook" for my daily phone call on account of he was busy getting ready to skip town. whirling through me was a deep-seated desire to ask for a new assignment, or even a restriction, for while he is away.
and so...ever so respectfully, i sent him a text expressing to him how much his directives please me...and asked if i may have new ones to follow in his absence. he responded immediately, "oh yeah. let me think about this one."
i have no idea what kind of idiot grin came exploding out of my face upon reading that...but it was most definitely an explosive variety of idiot grin. he's spending time thinking on it...
i received my directives later that evening. they are as follows:
- cut off a bit of my hair every day for 37 days. put it in a bag. give it to him when he tells me to.
- count the days he is gone in tick marks on a mirror in my bedroom. take a photo of myself nude in the mirror every day. email him the photos every three days.
- beat off every day. write down three lines in a journal describing what i'm fantasizing about when i get off. give him the journal when he tells me to.
- have sex with a woman. write to him about my experience.
i was sitting in a lab at school when these came through, working on a creative brief for one of my classes. after writing all of this down (i'm a studious little sub), i was barely able to focus.
counting the days? bits of hair? he must really want me to feel it.
i told him i would cut off longer bits of hair on the days when it was particularly painful that our contact was so restricted. he approved. he's been gone four days now...and i'm starting to wonder if i'm not going to end up with a bob by the time he gets back. i sent him an email telling him so. he said it would be cute. but god damn it. my hair! i know you can't see me, readers...but i'll tell you...i've been growing my hair out for a little over a year now...it's grown past my shoulders...and i love it so much.
yup. he really wants me to feel it.
as to having sex with a woman... prior to my coupling with the devil, i was on a mission to be polyamorous and explore pansexuality... (yes, pan...) i've played with other women before, and been a third party to sex with a couple as well. but never have had the opportunity to do the girl-on-girl scene i've been wanting.
now i have to do it.
and since it's coming from him, it makes me want it even more.
it's sort of remarkable how strong this desire is in me to be subservient to him. i told him recently that he makes me want to live on my knees, and it's so true. and what's even more remarkable is that it's just naturally like this.
later that evening, i told him that i love it when he tells me what to do...and how i love doing what he tells me to do. he replied that he loves it too...then he used the words direction and purpose.
and i melted inside.
this, readers...is mental bondage. at least for this girl.
forced contact restrictions, cutting off bits of hair, counting the days in tick marks on my bedroom mirror.
i'm feeling a lot like a princess locked in a tower.