4-23 After a long lapse, Simon's and my e-mail conversation continued. He brought up the pics I once gave him of me and asked for more -- I told him quite honestly that I'm pretty sure he has them all; I haven't had any lingerie-or-less shots taken in a long time. And of course that made me think of all the pics he could take (particularly since I have that Polaroid) next month when I'm pet-sitting for Mom. I don't have any pictures of me in those stripper heels and I have several long semi-transparent gowns to start off with. But then I could pose for ones like on my knees as if I were about to suck his cock, and then there's lying back, legs spread for the camera -- I get off on the idea of him keeping those pics, getting them out to jerk off to me like I'm a porn star. I bet he'd particularly like the one that occurred to me given the metal bars of the headboard of Mom's bed -- me in my purple collar, on hands and knees, leash attaching the collar to the headboard.

Added later that day: Oh God, right now I want to be shameless, I want to be a whore, a slut, to belong to someone who'll make me do everything. I'm writing this on hands and knees, in front of the closet door mirror so I can watch myself. I am wearing my stripper shoes, a stretch white lace gown, more low-cut than anything else I own, and a white lace g-string. And bracelets, earrings, a choker, and a long string of fake pearls clipped to the choker at the front and back of my neck, running down through my crotch, against my clit and my holes. It isn't tight, more symbolic of ownership than punitive. When I shift my hips it rubs against my pussy lips where the g-string triangle meets string back, it rubs against my clit under the fabric and against my asshole. I keep shifting my hips. My legs are spread wide at the knees; my butt is higher than my head most of the time unless I'm specifically posing for the mirror. I feel astoundingly hot in a very submissive way, particularly when I sit back, butt almost touching heels, and torso upright. I want the jewels tighter. I want to be ordered to take my tits out, to press them against the floor and raise my ass high as I can, on view to all. I want to be ordered to make myself come just by shifting my hips, by trailing those beads against me.

--break for frantic masturbation--

Ah, all those "I want"s that no longer apply post-orgasm, once the bad kind of pain caused by the high heels becomes noticeable. I wish everyday me were more comfortable with my submissive thoughts.

4/12 -- Dream last night, after my first e-mail conversation with Simon in ages. (A different dream the night before that -- the earlier one involved some sort of a reality show where the audience voted on who should end up together -- in that I came in involved with an unnamed older woman, but ended up grouped with Simon and Severus Snape [now there's the result of reading too much Harry Potter fanfiction!])

Last night's dream had me back in high school and taking massive day-long exams, enough so that a teacher or principal sends me to "blow off steam" in a room alone with Simon. Once there, I tell him I want to draw it out longer -- "let's play peepshow." Pretend there's a layer of glass between us and each of us can do whatever we want on our own side and also watch the other. So I strip, slowly, teasing him, masturbating myself. Spreading my legs wide and rubbing my clit for him to watch. Eventually I bring myself to an intense orgasm that way; he's pushed some of his clothes out of his way to play with his cock, but started later than I did. After that clit orgasm, though, I walk over to him and pretty much say "fuck this" to the pretense and climb on top of him to slide down on his cock, facing him and with my tits in his face.