May it please You, Mistress, to view my first Journal entry explaining why i've decided to devote myself entirely to You, Mistress Puss.

What excitement to hear your exquisite voice, Mistress. I knelt before my computer, closed my eyes and allowed Your words to flood my senses. Mistress simply said: “Listen!” So I do, over and over, taking note of every detail; marking what pleases and displeases; divining how best to serve Her even with this journal entry.

When You felt the need to claim: “I do actually exist not a fake...” it made me wonder if many of the messages You received had questioned that? I never doubted Your authenticity Mistress. Why? Something about that profile photo: it’s spontaneity. A woman in black on a country lane with a switch in her hand. If you had been intending (bothering?) to convince Your audience---that is, to have dressed yourself with the signs of domination---You would have brought a riding crop for the photograph. What we have, instead, is fresh cut from the bushes in the background probably because that was the moment when you had the impulse to dominate the lucky one taking this photograph.

 
That’s given me an insight into You, Mistress, which i offer for my first Journal entry: in matters of the erotic, You’re impulsive or, better still, Your dominance is not routine or premeditated, but comes via an exquisite, coquettish whim. That’s how it should be. I’ll never, never expect Your domination, Mistress, but always anticipate, patiently the gift of Your caprice. Something freely enacted because it satisfies You rather than your slave. Anything else is mistaken, humdrum, banal. Surely that’s Your style: an outwardly normal event---a walk in the country, this time--but always underpinned by tantalizing anticipations that could come at any moment. It occurred to You to whip him with branch that day and so it was done. How deliciously erotic: in a restaurant, say, or during a play You punctuate it all with a small act of gleeful cruelty (a pinch, a bite, a cigarette burn) as a reminder that You dominate, down to the very essence of Your slave's being; that the palpable world is an illusion Mistress occupies for mere convenience while ruling over his darkest secret heart.

Forgive me if i've erred, Mistress, or been presumptuous. What pleasure, though, to weave all this from a snapshot and a quick bulk voicemail.