Master told me I had to write out the full fantasy I'd had when I talked to him at lunch time. So I did. I actually wrote in on little scraps of paper in the Fleet Farm parking lot as I was about to go in to buy some garden fence. You never know when inspiration is going to strike. After I wrote it I felt ashamed.
He's not going to like this, the way you have twisted it all dark, I told myself. But he said write it, so I did. How can you get off on this stuff? I asked myself. What a sick person you are.
When I got home I rewrote it in my journal, just the same but with neater printing and not on scraps of paper so it was easier to read. Now I desperately want to masturbate again and am not allowed.
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