From me and no other source.How many times did she end a particularly productive writing session with no memory of having pecked out the letters and w...rds and sentences that filled the typewritten pages? In a trance, she was, a dream state so deep that she was completely oblivious to the flying keys striking the paper. My keys. The key I made fly. Her fingers rested on the keyboard, idle, spasming haphazardly to random nerve impulses having nothing in the least to do with the process of. He taught me the art of BDSM. As far back as I can remember I always wanted to serve and obey even before I knew what it meant to be a submissive.I loved the feel of his whip on my ass. He did it out of love. I was never really a bad slave. I always tried to obey his every command, but sometimes I just needed the feel of his whip on me. To me, it showed that he loved me enough to make sure I knew what he wanted of me. Sometimes I just needed to know there were still boundaries.I heard the crack. More

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