Going Strong

To all my faithful readers (the whole handful of ya) I am here to inform you that I have apparently been kidnapped, and thenceforth will be held hostage. And when I say I, I mean my head, my heart, and (most definitely) my pussy. I really didn't expect to get kidnapped — we rarely do, lest we be plotting a multimillion dollar heist of our own family jewels or some such. No, no I did not plan to get kidnapped. But how delightful that it has occurred! I am not complaining in the least. Be that as it may, I thought I should give fair notice so that you all don't think I've fallen victim to the abandoned blog syndrom or some such. No no, I'm alive and well, kicking a bit and screaming a lot. I'm also bruised and bloodied, scratched and burned, my throat numb and my ass raw. (Tho' to be fair, the burn was not his fault.) I'm elated because he likes my cooking and because his friends like me. These are good things to me. I'm also elated because of the constant state of orgasmic bliss I've had to endure — but again, I'm not complaining. Tonight sees the introduction of the beautiful new leather riding crop, and I'm on the edge of my computer chair in anticipation. Ironically, I'll probably be able to sit only on the edge of my chair for the rest of the weekend. Mmm, well, c'est la vie.