I suppose like most industry professionals, I have a private diary.
I know I know, I can only imagine how many of you just got a chill up your spine reading that, but rest assured there are no names, phone numbers or other contact information, not even so much as a single clear physical description that would give anyone away. No personal information, aside from the scene itself, is captured in my words. I’m extraordinarily discreet as any of you who have ever met me will know with absolute certainty.
Now, this diary is separate from the notes I may take about my dreams, ideas and general memories. It is a more personal journey of my private playtime and professional dealings. Since BDSM is something I deeply enjoy, and don’t just do because it is easy and profitable, it becomes highly personal and intimate. I do in fact, have appointments I’ve enjoyed on a much higher level and sometimes the thoughts stick with me long after my visitor has left. It’s powerful and I’d hate to forget even one instance.
My profession goes back a full 8 1/2 years at this point and I’ve only managed to write about the pure highlights of my experience with one tiny exception, the very first year I began. I documented nearly every detail simply so I would be able to compare years later how much I had grown. It’s quite a difference, endlessly amusing. Reading previous entries on occasion fills me with an overwhelming sense of satisfaction and eroticism that I simply can’t describe and the entries are so highly personal and important to me that I feel I should do something more with them….perhaps even publish them.
I’ve certainly contacted a few companies in the past who would be eager to see examples of my writing. Books like that would be incredibly entertaining to read, and fortunately for me, very little editing would need to be done as even in my private notes, I’ve kept everyone’s identity a secret. I will forget names, occasionally even faces – but never a scene. I will remember each nuance, each trembling breath you took, each stroke of my cane or twist of the rope…names have become irreverent. You will notice I’ve even renamed some of you, requiring you to call and address yourself by your new pet name so I can immediately remember and attach you to our last scenario. My journal captures all of this, but for the moment it remains under the impenetrable lock and key of my safe. I’m writing this now because yesterday I filled in the very last page of my diary. I will of course stat a new one, but this particular journal is out of paper and must come to a close….
I am not married to the idea of publishing something for a profit, but I do have the desire to do more with it than keep it locked away. I’ve decided to open the floor to my readers….
