Stuff has been pretty rough lately. I don't know if I have the words or energy to get into everything.

Yesterday, Sir decided that I was to get a beating. That I needed one. I agreed with him.

Except, I fell asleep right in the middle of it. Face down on our bed while in a spreader bar, getting hit and flogged and whipped.

One part of me finds that utterly ridiculous. Who does that? Does it indicate boredom, or a lack of interest in the goings on? I don't think so though.

Another part of me finds a bit of total surrender in it. The utter relaxation of impact play, and the complete trust in Sir.

We both hit on that trust when we spoke about it today.

A few weeks ago, I did something bad (nothing hugely catastrophic, but bad nonetheless). Sir said he was disappointed in me, and lost trust in me. It has really stuck with me and tore at my heart.

But last night showed me that perhaps not all trust is lost.