Dirty Weekend

Going to spend the weekend with The Photographer as his personal slave for 36 hours, all things being equal. I've packed an ecclectic array of things from cuffs through corsetry to a japanese caligraphy set to keep him amused. We have a short checklist of things we'd like to achieve over that time period including: me being a doll, using skin as canvas, objectification and fucking in a club. I'm sure other things will come up.

I feel excited, happy and also very calm. Whatever else, I feel assured and confident in his company (both in and out of play) which is the prime reason for being able to do this, I suppose. We have discussed it a lot, and I feel ready. No hesitation, no delay.

I think I've been very lucky in that most of the men I've met thus far have been clever, funny, inventive and wonderful to be around. I'm sure I could grow rather partial to some of them. There's an ease in all of this which I never expected, I had thought that one of the difficult parts for me would have been to get out of the vanilla conventions that I've probably become used to over the years I've been away. But I needed hardly any time at all and feel all the better for having left them behind. The only slightly troublesome issue has been the "thanks but no thanks" responses, but I think that might be a natural englishness combined with a concern for other people's feelings. Neither of which I'm keen to part with.