Dear Ms. Darcy,
I am attaching three pumpkin photos: one with my head inside, another with a candle inside. In the third, I gave him a hat. If you would like to see other photos, I took quite a few. The lettering seemed to come out best in these three. I originally wanted it to say PERVERSE + BORING. An undignified combination, because how is it even possible to be both perverse and boring at the same time? I do get the impression that some of the other perverts are more imaginative than I am. But the design didn’t look right, even when I shortened it and broke it up (PER VY + BORING). So I went with redundant DULL + BORING. Please see below for my recollections of our last session.
The thought of my session with you stayed with me all week during my travels, and continues to work in my mind now that I am at home in Los Angeles. There are still a few marks on my body too, although most of them have faded. For a couple of days there was an area of light bruising on my abdomen, where you were digging in with your knuckles, I think. Bruises from tickling! That felt pretty special. I was sorry to see them go.
For me, the experience of being tickled can have a few different stages. One stage is a kind of playing, where I’m hovering between pretending not to react and pretending to react. I’m basically holding myself together the entire time, and I don’t always get past this stage. Then there are moments when I completely lose it. These moments feed into one another, and get longer. If I have one moment like that, it usually leads to another, in a chain reaction, or like a laddered stocking: the first tear gets wider with each new attack. There’s a further stage on the other side of losing control, when I seem to have nothing left to give, and you somehow keep forcing a response from me. This stage is mostly exhaustion and emptiness, and some pain. That’s my favorite part, when that happens. It’s wonderful that you have the patience to go that far.
The roleplay added a further dimension to humiliation, because you were giving me an opportunity to relate to you on terms of equality, and then demanding compensation because I was not up to the challenge. The way you kept bringing the session back to the fiction of its being a date (including dressing and dinner!) was brilliant. And the way you set that fiction against the other fiction of the revenge scenario, substituting me for the man who injured you, and substituting humiliation and pain for the opportunity for romance that I forfeited. (One of the cool things about revenge is that it accepts substitutes, taking like for like.)
If I had been able to detach myself from the scene, it would have been interesting to watch your mind work, and to appreciate the different colors of your performance. The range of tones in your voice is incredible. There are times when you are simultaneously tender and cutting. Actually, in every communication I’ve seen from you, the tone is always pitched perfectly.
I’m not sure why I questioned whether I would enjoy pushing my limits with scent. The smell of your feet was, for me, completely sexual and fascinating and great. I really, really, really liked it. I was surprised, though, to discover that I liked the feeling of your shoe almost as much, when you were pressing the toe and the heel against my chest. I don’t find shoes that interesting (apart from the scent they sometimes carry). But the pressure was marvelous. I felt myself rising to meet you, to make the pressure greater. The performance of power and submission also had an effect on me. I have never really thought about trampling, and I probably don’t have the right kind of body to receive trampling, but maybe there is a way that could work for me.
I was proud and happy to be a footstool for you. This kind of activity doesn’t have the intensity of pain, but it does have an intensity of its own. Sort of like meditation. There’s an element of physical endurance in maintaining a position for a certain length of time. There’s a danger of being distracted by obsessive thoughts, and on the other hand of losing track of my mind altogether. Being assigned a meditation helped. I liked focusing my thoughts on you while my back supported your feet.
Finding words to thank you can be difficult because you are well aware of all the ways in which you are remarkable, and you do not need to hear them from me. So I will just say, in the most general terms, thank you for the time you have spent dominating me, and thank you for being on this planet.
Sincerely, Slave A