We’re meeting soon, very soon.
And I admit it–I’m really out of slut mode. Slut practice. Slut anything. The libido is low–because when you fill ALL your time with “OMG I GOTTA GET THIS DONE” you just don’t have time for anything else.
Not the fun/hot/wonderful/scary porn I like to watch and read.
Not the porn I like to write.
There is this tiny kernel deep inside that…simmers.
Like that last tiny ember in a campfire that once blazed hot as a blast furnace.
Yeaup…like that. Because you know…and I know…that if attention is given to that ember, and it’s blown on, and nurtured even a little bit, and given some sustenance (the touch of His hand on my bottom, or gripping my arm or tit or hair and roughing me up) that it will come back to life, burning merrily as if it had never been banked to the verge of going out.
He’ll help me with that, He will.
I said to Him the other day…’i’m nervous…about the pain…about being able to take it…about all of it’
and HE said
“nilla–it’s all about the pain. And you’ll take it.”
And then He just dropped the subject, went on with whatever else we were talking about, like it was already handled. I suppose just now that I’m a work in progress. Not feeling my super-slut powers–they must be dormant– right? Yes, I do believe that they ARE there someplace…I just need to rout through my “mental closet” and find them again.