The Time

It's come.

I'm having less and less of it.

Or, i'm not finding the reasons to make enough of it.

This site has become something i never thought it would become:

Work

When i started The Lustful Quality, it was a thrill for me. The interaction, the sharing of my words, the feedback - all of it was very enjoyable. Back then, i never thought i'd see it through as far as i have.

Early on, i dedicated myself to it, with a strict discipline of posting frequently. I've manned these pages for over two years, and have consistently published (or my host writers) a new post on average of one every three days. That, as i've seen, is a rarity. But it hasn't come without its cost.

I've mentioned my ennui before. Actually, many times before.

I'm not proud of the evolution i allowed of the reasons i continued to publish here. At first it was to share, but ever so gradually, i started to get worked up over the number of visitors i received. I felt that proved my relevance. And when i'd see those numbers cease to climb - and worse, reverse - i'd lose motivation. That lack of motivation can be seen in some of my posts. I'm aware of it, and i'm certain my readers were too, but out of politeness (or intimidation) they chose not to mention it. One telling indicator to me is that not a single post that i've written in the last 5 months have found it's way under the tag Deity's favorites. I tried to create new challenges to reinvigorate my interest, and they would, but only briefly. Soon my attachment to the site would return to where it was - loosely.

Unfortunately, as a result of this shift, the purpose of TransformHer got lost. I couldn't find evidence that i was making the impact that i wanted when i first started here in the list of anonymous web visitors that i religiously checked every single day (and several times throughout that day). That became more and more aggravating, and the choice i needed to consider became very clear. I don't do many things in my life without an exceedingly large amount of passion, and that was what precisely was missing - passion. For that reason, it became more and more unappealing to attach my name to what i felt had diminished to mediocrity.

I'm not taking the site down. I'll leave it up. I'm going to step away from it for awhile, and see if after some time i'll begin to miss it (which i almost certainly will). I can't promise i'll be back, but i can say that if indeed i do decide to turn it off, i'll pen a farewell.

This is not something i enjoy contemplating, and it's not a decision that's easy to make. But i know, taking a step away is the right decision.

It's time.

The Saddle

It would not be a wrong assumption that my recent trip to a mountainous environ would involve taking in the powdery slopes of some ski resort. However, even though this recreation is native to my home state, it is not something i usually engage in, due largely to my fascination with exploring the outdoors. Whenever i travel back, i like to fill my time with walks, drives, hikes, rock-climbing, and on a rare treat, horseback riding.

I have stated before my experience with horses, but i haven't really mentioned much about my girl's. Through a perfectly lucky coincidence, she and i have a similar affection for horses and riding, with a few differences. Her experience came through summer camps where she would be paired with an animal, taught how to care for it entirely as well as ride it, which has led her to romanticize these great creatures to the point of girlish glee whenever she sees one. Whereas, my interaction with horses served as more of a functional, work-related symbiosis. While i enjoy their presence i still see them as a means of transport, just like my feet, a car and my hands might also facilitate my exploration of the terrain.

Prior to leaving for our trip, my girl arranged for us to have a couple of hours of private riding with a guide. She could hardly contain her excitement for this opportunity to sit in a saddle once again. The entire time leading up to it, she kept telling everyone who'd listen about her time with horses and how much she was looking forward to this time.

Our guide picked us up at an arranged location in the middle of the small mountain town. Within the first sentence he spoke, you could tell how genuine this man was as the purveyor of a dozen horses. This man was a cowboy. An old cowboy, one who had seen many changes across the West, and most of them from off the top of a horse. He ferried us in his "bukkit uh bolts" to his horse corral, where he had three steads waiting for us, ready to ride. My girl chose "Rascal" - who proved to live up to his billing - which left me with ole "Burly". Walking up to Burly, i could tell that like our cowboy guide, he too had seen many a years, but i had no problem trusting him and lifted myself atop his saddle. Our guide took us up a trail that raised our elevation by 1,500 feet in less than 20 minutes. My horse was gulping big lungfuls of air by the time we summited to the vast open mesa - always a strange experience to feel that coming from something you're straddling.

It felt good to be back on a horse. The land on the plateau we explored was so vast, i had several opportunities to wander off and let my horse out into a gallop. This is an experience that is hard to describe to those who've never done it. Galloping a horse is very unlike riding in a speeding car or on a roller coaster. While there is speed, the excitement isn't just unique to the rider in the saddle. Horses are evolutionarily made to run, and more than that, they love to run. So, holding onto the reins as this animal charges underneath you, hurtling you at frantic speeds, it's both a thrill for you AND your horse.

When we'd finished, my girl and i got to speak a little about the experience. While i had a blast, my girl had what could be described as a near spiritual experience. I wanted to learn more about what made it so profound. The thing, she said, that really grabs her is that it's very similar to a Dominance and submission relationship. The horse must submit to her commands, but she is dominant only because this 2-ton animal lets her. There must be consent, or else she'll be tossed from off its back. And that allowance, that willingness to consent to guidance and command really affects and fulfills her.

I knew exactly what she meant.

--------------------------------------------

I'd like to thank Vesta for her always impressive stewardship of this site in my absence. I do hope you enjoyed her perspective. I know i did as she always serves to enlighten me about some detail in a past post i hadn't thought of before.

The Balancing Act

When Deity asked me to take care of these pages until his return, I wrote back to say that I would be happy to write two or three pieces over the week. It will come as no surprise to readers that he wrote back to say that it pleased him that I had agreed to write three pieces whilst he was away. I suppose some might say that my negotiation skills need some work!

With two pieces of writing ‘in the bag’, for some reason I was vacillating about a topic for the final piece for him. I thought about writing about ‘discipline’ as it applied to dress code. I mentioned the idea to Deity and I could feel him squirming in his seat. He wanted to trust me and yet, old pal Vesta hadn’t exactly embraced latex as yet, had she? His reply about my choice was not exactly exuberant.

Taking the hint, I abandoned that idea for a discussion about ‘control’. I’ve long been fascinated with all the strategies a dom uses to control his girl, from a ‘look’ or ‘hint’, to use of the whip. I was fascinated by Deity’s memory of his control over June. The poor wee thing said that she was unsure about wearing no panties under a short skirt to a restaurant, whereupon she would meet with him. So, what did he say?

Then, there is no reason for us to see each other again.”

Oh, June! You fell for the oldest trick in the book! Mind you, I have fallen for the same trick...but that’s another story for another day. And, let’s be honest here, for I am among readers of ‘like mind’, I loved every minute of it.

The 2007 archives here are scintillating reading. For those who have not read back there, put aside a full Sunday afternoon for that delicious treat. Ultimately, I needed to settle on one post and it is Egalité, and the discussion therein about equality. That morning back in 2007, Deity, by his own admission, pushed his girl too far. He wanted her back into a corset before the weather was appropriately mild for such a garment to be worn with some comfort. He had compared her to her idol in an effort to motivate her. Wrong. When asked for her thoughts she said,

“Why do you insist on us being unequal?”

Here was the response to a much bigger question. It was a question that went to the heart of their power exchange. As fascinating as his discussion is in the post, I was most taken to his response to comments. He suggested to one person who commented that perhaps we should just “enjoy the ebb and flow”. To another, “as I have changed my submissive, so have they changed me.” It was, he said, about finding the “balance” between the two people.

In another favourite post of mine, A convenient side effect Deity has written a list of behaviours and actions relating to his role in his relationship with his girl. One point notes:

“You forcefully point out that she needs to stop criticizing herself...because it will short circuit her impulse to over-analyse, and because she requires the authority of a boss.”

Ah! I relate. In fact, he could have been talking about me. You see, I need to be forcefully reminded to stop criticizing myself. I need to have my impulse to over-analyse short-circuited, and I also need the authority of a boss.

I’ve spoken before about the fact that I took my own sweet time to reveal myself to my husband. I’ve gone through the erotic ecstasies of being asked to be spanked and I’ve also ridden the highs of being asked to be dominated; not just in the bedroom, but all day, every day. In my most recent post here I talked of the fact that I am not at peace with my decision to be in a power exchange relationship every minute of every day. I’ve fought my own nature, and I’ve resisted my dominant’s control and my mentor’s control.

But, the truth is my husband has always led the way for the two of us. He has always expected that I would follow along behind. Why resist his status as ‘the boss’ now, all these years later, and when I finally had what I had always wanted? Some days, I try to push him to be “equal”, whilst he resists the equality sticker with every fibre of his being. It just isn’t going to happen. We are “equals” but our roles are very different; always have been and always will be. In essence, I am wasting my time, and my opportunity to be happy.

My resistance to my ‘place’ is not so much I don’t recognize that I need the authority of a boss, as it is my never ending desire to “over-analyse”. I just so very much want to get this right; to be sure that I should be doing what I am doing. Perhaps, it would have been easier if I had never been educated! Alas, I need to be sure; 100% sure that a power exchange is right, and that I am doing it right.

One day recently, I was speaking to an incredibly patient and tolerant dom. He was allowing me to blither on in a ‘chat’, not offering too much, until finally he decided to take the role of the dominant and see if he couldn’t talk me through my concerns.

“Why is it that you require being made to do something?”

“Well, it's not my choice...It's someone else's choice about my body.”

“But, haven't you given that choice over to me? So you don’t trust me to choose for you?”

“Well, when you put it like that, I don't know what to say.”

“That is the fallacy of ‘submitting is hard.’ You already submitted, you gave me the choice, and then when I make it, you take it back.

“Yes, I totally see your point. I feel quite enlightened.”

“It is like the quietening of the ego.”

“I am happiest when I am most calm.”

“But, getting calm is the challenge. Giving away the choice, and accepting what you get back, is calming. The resistance is the noise.”

It made total sense and yet, I could not embrace the notions with consistency. I needed to find a way to have a power exchange whereby I could ‘quieten my ego’ and at the same time express my thoughts which may not be in agreement with my husband. How did I do that?

In the past few weeks, I have had the great good fortune of becoming dear friends with a submissive woman who was able to answer that question for me. Like me, she and her husband are ‘life partners’. Like me, sometimes she disagrees with a decision her husband is making in their business. She related to my issues and being the darling that she is, she wanted to get this sorted for me, so that I could truly be happy.

“Master often asks my opinion about things, and when He asks my opinion as such, He will get an honest answer. Not what He wants to hear. In the end it is He who will decide, but He will know when i don't agree with His choice. I usually say: yes, do it the way you see is best but you must know that i don't agree with you. And, of course sometimes i feel angry and worried. But it goes away quickly... isn't submission wonderful! We are a team in life. So are you two!”

Finally, I had my answer. Who knows why we finally understand something on one day and not another! But in those words, I realized how to live – as a submissive; a submissive with a voice, and perhaps with a different opinion, but a submissive with a dominant who would make the ultimate decision. He is ‘the boss’, and I am the submissive, and that is what works for us; our version of a ‘power exchange.’

We must all find our “balance”; what works for us. I’m proud to be writing on the blog of a man who has put great effort into ensuring that his girl is as happy as he. And, I believe they are both blissfully happy. If that’s not balance, what is?

Lead the Way

Writing for Deity’s site is rather unlike writing for my own (as he pointed out when ensnaring me to this task on short notice). When I write for my blog, a thought will enter my head, or an event has occurred, and I write it down. It is that simple. But, over here, I want to write differently. I want to be true to the soul of a blog belonging to a dominant man, a sadist displaying a deep honesty and integrity that is rare and ambitious.

Originally, I thought three fun posts over the week would be good; good for me and good for you. But, I have been pulled into the lion’s den. With limited time, I needed immediate inspiration. I began to re-read Deity’s words. I found what I was looking for in Restraining Order. It is a fabulous post, as relevant to his life today, I believe, as it was then; as relevant to him as it is to me, or you. I say this because I believe that as strong and capable as we are in this space, we are fragile, often only a moment away from causing our relationship harm.

Both the dominant and the submissive must display in equal measure, all the virtues. To be consistently open, honest and obedient to another person is no easy task. To take responsibility for another, either in a scene, or for life, is not a role to be taken lightly. To get, one has to give, and to give, one gets. We all know this, but it is the accomplishment and potential failure of that noble deed that I speak of here.

In a partnership, a partnership that potentially spans until one’s dying day, mistakes will be made. Feelings will be hurt; one or both team players will be taken to the brink of despair. It’s just life. None of us can stay up in the clouds forever. The rain soaks us all, and we must wait for the sun to shine again. We must give our apologies, declare our love, and try harder to breach the void that can exist between two souls from time to time. We must, ultimately, accept that we are all flawed; all of us. Knowing this, we must accept, and then embrace those flaws, in our partners. To live, and to love another for a long time, is to understand that it can never be perfect, not always.

In ‘Restraining Order’ Deity writes,

“I believe patience is not a virtue. It is a requirement...There will be thrashing, stuttering, doubting, and even contemplation of quitting. Having the ability to calmly slow the knee-jerk reaction to these responses will exponentially benefit both.”

Whilst I have the good fortune to correspond with a few dominant men, I have had less opportunity to talk person to person with submissive females. Thus, I can only speak for myself really. Patience is critical to my relationship with my dominant. I’ve thrashed, stuttered, doubted and contemplated quitting. I have knee-jerked my way through many situations. In spite of my most valiant attempts to be steady, I sometimes thrash about the D/s high seas; uncertain, insecure, searching for the lifebuoy, sinking, lost. At times, the sense of despair is complete and all momentum, gone.

When I look into this abyss, I am unable to see that it is the same black hole that I visited before. I forget that there is a way out of the black hole, and too weak to even cry out ‘Help!’ my survival instincts betray me. Either I am rescued, or I cease to exist. My husband is my dominant; and an anomaly. The children and I love him profoundly; he is as steady, as strong, as unsinkable as a ship; always there to guide the way. Prone to drama, emotional, even tempestuous, his strength and stalwart navigational skills to show us the way through to calmer seas, can be relied on. His sense of the dramatic, his sometimes overbearing nature can overwhelm me, but when I flounder, it is his unnerving way through the storm that always speaks to me. The clouds part, the sun shines weakly, and I begin to wonder if I have the strength after all, perhaps, to get up and try climbing out of the hole. He assures me with his words, his persistence and resolve that we will get through this together, and I begin to feel the warmth on my back. I smile. He infuriates me, but he believes in me. I need him. And, thus we go on, again, hand in hand, with him leading the way.

Over at my blog, I called one of my posts, Light the Way. Long ago, long before we said our marital vows, my husband and I took a shine to a saying, ‘I don’t know where I am going, but I am on my way.’ Some days, I don’t know where I am going, and some days I think maybe he does not know either. But, he convinces me that he does know, and thus we go forward together, him leading the way. Perhaps there will be the odd dead end, but we will retrace our steps, and go on. He will ‘light the way’. All you have to do is believe; be patient, do what comes naturally and you’ll get there in the end; together, with one right behind the other. That’s our way.

A very, very bad girl!

You come to these pages to be aroused, don’t you? I know! I’m one of you; an avid reader. But, now I return to you here (as opposed to here ), to fill in for Deity whilst he is away. It was all a bit short notice this time, and he doesn’t know what I am writing, so let’s have some fun over the next week. It may lead to a tongue lashing later, but I’ll worry about that later. (“My God, she is so brave!” I hear some of you say. Or, stupid.)

I see that some of you girls loved being scared in a recent post.

“I imagine you sitting there wondering if I am speaking directly to you...”

Alfred Hitchcock could not have done it better, don’t you think? We girls love to be scared half to death. It gets our hearts racing a little faster, and yes, it gets us very wet between the legs. What a f**king rush! That’s why we giggle, right? Maybe they are saying the things they say and it is all a lark. And, maybe it is not. Maybe, they really are going to do the things they say. We don’t know and we love that we don’t know.

“Do you willingly open that door and feel them rush upon you, succumb to them, allow them to bind you and then drag you off to be delivered at my feet?”

Well, girls, do you? Of course you do...at least in your thoughts. So, now you are at his feet. What now? Do you have any regrets? Are you just a tiny bit worried? What the hell is he planning to do with you, anyway? Do you care? Or, do you lay there, breath shallow, heart racing, wishing that he would just get on with it?

Well, relax. He’s going to take his sweet time. He’s going to ensure that you are well and truly worried. Just a little worried is no use to him. He wants you vexed. Yes, my sweeties, vexed!

He wants you to pause, and reflect on the fact that only a bad girl would be here, waiting to have clever tricks and wicked deeds done to her.

Only a very bad girl would be hoping that he plans to order you to undress. If he orders you to undress, then it is out of your hands, right?

Only a very, very bad girl would be hoping that he plans to make you bend to his will; to make use of your body for his pleasure (and yours, too).You know all this. You know what he will do to you, and yet you stay.

That door that is ajar, allows you to go. You may go. You are dismissed. And, yet you stay. (You are still reading, right?)

I think he may be right. You are a very, very bad girl!

printemps

Most this time of year flock to the warmer environs, as the buds of Spring peek their head out into the warmer light of the Sun. However, as the days grow longer and the temperature tauntingly creeps upwards, i often seek the last islands of Winter before i am faced with the doggedness of a sweaty Summer. I've decided that i need to take my girl on a short trip to breathe in the crisp open air found only where the oxygen is thin, and the snow is part of the landscape.

While i'm away, the lovely Vesta has agreed to look after the Archives of Deity. I always love it when she focuses her boundless energy here, and i hope you readers find it a treat.

Don't answer

I imagine you sitting there, wondering if i'm speaking directly to you.
The room around you is dark, the only illumination coming from the monitor.
Your eyes peel over every curvature of these words, looking for a hint at my meaning.
When it first comes to you, that darkness, that lack of light that surrounds you suddenly grips you.
It holds you firmly, like the words on this page, knowing my intent.
You read the previous sentences, over and over again, in order to distract you from the thoughts that now creep into your head.
But they are there, gathering outside your door, outside the confines of your safe, secure mind.
Lurking.
In the shadows.
Summoned by me, to do my bidding. To tempt and haunt you.
Do you let them in? Do you willingly open that door and feel them rush upon you, succumb to them, allow them to bind you and then drag you off to be delivered at my feet?

Did you hear it? That door...it just creaked, as if something were leaning on it.

Wandher off

I can't remember the precise thread of thoughts that led me to the designs for that evening's correction, but i do recall the instant the innovation popped into my head that a devilish smile painted itself across my mouth and the words "evil genius" captioned on my crown. Lately, i'd been craving predicament scenarios. In addition, i wanted to add some spice to our weekly routine. I intuited that a carrot needed to be inserted (into the scenario, you perverts).

"What do you have in store for me tonight?"

"I'm not sure what you mean?"

"It's Friday. Time for my correction."

"Oh, are we still doing that?"

My girl rolled her eyes at me, apparently unfazed by my stonewalled face.

I escorted her back to our bedroom where she was met with the hairbrush and thin dowel cane i'd laid out onto the bedspread. I knew that the options were not equally evaluated by her.

"You get your choice between these two implements."

"That's simple, i'll choose the-"

"Before you choose, i'd like to add that only one of these will allow you to use the Magic Wand." Her eyes widened.

The Carrot.

Some of you may remember a while back, where i used my Flex Spending dollars on items that would bolster my kinky supplies. Even after my successful haul, i still had a considerable amount left over, and looked through the online drugstore once more to see if there was anything that caught my eye. I couldn't believe it when i came across the Hitachi Magic Wand at drugstore.com. I immediately purchased it, keeping it a surprise from my girl, and excitedly awaited it's arrival (talk about a stimulus package from the government).

My girl has long had issues regarding masturbation and achieving orgasm. It had always been a goal of mine to help her overcome these and allow her to experience the full pleasure of her body's erogenous reactions. When i first presented her with her brand new toy, she reacted with muted excitement, uncertain why i would "waste money on yet another vibrator". Dear readers, i've known the power of the Magic Wand for many years, and i knew my girl even better. EVERY girl should have one. It should be a right, we should have government-mandated grants or scholarships that provide every female in this country with their very own (kinda like using a pre-tax allocation of funds to purchase one). I knew precisely her reaction once she nestled it's magical head against the pink folds of her sex and flipped the switch.

Her wide eyes staring at me as i dangled the electronic incentive in front of her were those of a complete convert. She knew that if i was sweetening the deal with her Magic Wand, the cane strokes were not going to be light. Nontheless, a girl has got to have her candy.

"Well, obviously, i choose the cane."

I had her strip and then come to the side of the bed where the device was plugged into the wall. I told her to grasp the white shaft of the vibrator on both sides, with the business end pointing in towards her belly, ensuring that her fingers could not reach the switch that adjusted the speed. I then took pink, vinyl bondage tape and wrapped her hands, making her and the implement one. I then directed her to assume a position on all fours on the bed, leaning on her knees and her elbows.

"We're going to warm you up first. Place the wand against your cunt."

She touched the silent staff to her crotch. I began tapping her exposed buttocks with the long cane, repeatedly over and over, targeting small patches of her flesh. Normally, my girl would writhe in sheer pain at this form of attention, but because of what lingered at her pussy, she knew better than to make a peep.

"Would you like me to turn the wand on?"

"Yes. Yes, please."

Reaching between her legs, i clicked the switch that set the device to animation. She instantly moaned, moving her conjoined hands so that the vibrating head made the perfect contact. I continued biting her backside with short, quick swipes, gradually increasing the amount of surface area the cane flicked into her skin. Unabated, she ground her cunt into the white dome of the wand. By this point, her ass cheeks burned a cherry red.

"Would you like me to turn it on high?"

"uh...y-y-yes...yes please."

"Give me a number."

"16"

This offering raised my eyebrows. This was not my regular girl talking. Not when the cane is involved. This was not my demure, playful, frail little darling who feared the long justice of the thin wooden tail. This was a hungry, desirous creature tossing her safety away for more. More. This was a fire that burned the length of her suppined body. This was utterly incredible to see. This was climax.

And this was definitely going to hurt.

Halcyon

Awhile back, i opened the forum up for readers to ask questions either through my comments or privately through e-mail. Frankly, i was quite touched and overwhelmed by the number of questions that landed in my deviant inbox. Because they took the route of personally reaching out, i personally replied to their inquiries through private e-mail conversations. Some of the questions made me smile over the bashfulness in the questioner. Others stunned me for their sheer bluntness. And still a select few touched me for the amount of thought and reflection they caused me to undergo in order to properly address the inquiry. I present the following as the initial entry into a series of posts i hope to author that exhibit the stimulation i experienced from those of you who were curious enough to send me a list of questions (and if there are those of you who still would like to ask me something, please don't be shy, the window is still open).

"When did you realize that you had a desire to both adore and reduce a female?"

Oh boy, that was an early one. I remember having the biggest infatuation with this daughter of a family friend, and we would often play privately together. Off on our own, she would try to direct the narrative of our play, and i would firmly take it back in my hand. Many times, she would pout, and i would scold her for pouting, and even withhold my attention until she did what i wanted her to do. Lord, that seems so long ago. I think i'll expand on this in a post.

I've written about Muffy before. But i don't think i've ever thought about my attraction to her in such a duality as the gal who asked me this question phrased it. To both adore AND reduce. Is that what i was doing with her? I most certainly adored her. I remember when i first developed a crush on her, i was all of the age of seven, and after we'd returned from one of our visits to Muffy's family cabin in the mountains, i just sat for hours on the edge of my bed thinking of her. I couldn't bring myself to do anything else (including eating - i famously went three days without a single visit from my appetite after one of those visits), i absolutely had to consume every inch of her visage in my head. From the way she looked up at me through her arsenal of fluttery eyelashes, to the statement her bouncy pigtails made - everything about her was greater than the biggest bowl of ice cream or newest toy.

But, with all of my evident infatuation, it would be expected that when we found ourselves in eachother's company again, that i would spend all of my time pawing over her gentle flavor. As i dipped deeper into my memory cache to satisfy this reader's commission, i realized that was not the case. In fact, the currency i chose to demonstrate my attachment was cruelty, persecution and sadism. I pulled on her glorious pigtails, to the point of her wailing that summoned each of our parents. I would thoughtlessly knock over her tea set that she had so delicately prepared for us, snickering as she scattered to gather the fallen decolletage. Many a times, i held her favorite stuffed, yellow kitten hostage promising to do untold tortures to it only to watch her beg and plead that i release her plush friend. I was a terror. And yet, what made me so much more infatuated with her is that she took everything i dealt. We greeted eachother with equal amounts of glee and excitement, even though she knew what was to happen during our playtime.

It didn't occur to me what magical being i'd found until one day, after once again tossing her baby blue plastic china set to the floor, i had grown bored with her immediately responding by picking up the cups and saucers, and instead of watching, i lept to the floor and pressed my body onto her. I didn't want her to pick up my detritus. We struggled for a few minutes, her writhing under me as i reached for each of her arms in order to hold them still. After a moment or so, we looked at eachother - me on top, her beneath me - breathing heavily from the skirmish, and for whatever reason, we remained in that position. It felt so perfectly wonderful, yet odd and foreign as well, as if we'd glimpsed for a moment our mutual destinies. Excited that we might've seen where we'd end up, but also awkward in the moment of its newness.

Subsequent visits found us expanding on what we discovered that afternoon. She assumed the role of my puppet, i the puppeteer. And we flourished in this dynamic. Ask anyone outside of our relationship, and Muffy was the bossy, pushy girl who told others what to do and had wildly boundless ambitions. But in our little space that we safely discovered together, she relished the idea of me manipulating her limbs, restricting her speech and even withholding my attention only to give it back in tiny, delicious morsels.

As we grew up, that clumsy bigot known as puberty interrupted our fun. She became quite self-conscious of her reaction to our interaction, and i began to recognize the uncomfortable lower erotic undertone that it alluded to. Sadly, in order to preserve ourselves, we turned our once harmonic energy into an unhealthy competition where our scholastic and athletic achievements supplanted the acreage that our secretive choreography once occupied. What once existed between us would disappear by our teens, fluttering away like the last smoldering fumes of an extinguished campfire in the morning following.

Even a sadist has his limits

While it is unlike me to pull the plug on a ruse i've pulled before the completion of one of my favorite days of the year, i didn't want to go too far with my little April Fool's joke.

The post titled "Break" was indeed not a real announcement of a lengthy hiatus.

So, for those who left me such very kind wishes of a speedy return, i am very grateful for your words. While, i'm still experiencing the bitter aftertaste that i referred to here, i'll manage. Ole Deity was just having some good-natured fun on the first day of his birthday month. Sorry, i couldn't pass up the opportunity.

Break

Unfortunately, the affliction i reported on yesterday has not improved. In fact, if anything, it's gotten worse. The bitterness has increased in intensity, and it is consuming a great deal of energy as i need to eat yet it is rather discomforting to do so.

With all that said, because of this recent situation, i don't have the energy to focus on this site. For the time being, i'm going to take a leave of absence from posting here. I'm not sure for how long it will be, but for now these pages will go silent. My thanks to all of you who've offered their support and advice.