Slow. Painful. Frustrating. Agonizing. Aching. Excruciating.
These words describe the last couple of weeks of my life. I had surgery two weeks ago. It went very well. I was off the pain killers at the end of day two. I was up and moving, slowly, but getting things done by day three. All in all, it was a HUGE success and I recovered rather fast and healed quickly too.
The words above are not describing the effects of my surgery. They are how I would describe the last two weeks unable to be claimed by Sir. He has cared for me and nursed me back to good health, but what I REALLY need is for him to claim me, spank me, tattoo my skin with crop marks, restrain me and fuck me sideways and silly. I want to feel his hands, breath and tongue from my head to my toes. I want to bend to his will, answer his every call, every request, every need. I crave him.
Sir sent me an email at work today where he asked, “……Can you feel the vibrations, the clack of the rails, the mournful moan of the freight train? It is coming…..”