Tuesday 3rd January
Well Im in the dungeon answering the phone on behalf of T, who has insisted on boring me to death, babbling on about her dream she had. Im not interested, so I bury my nose in the latest copy of Bizarre, I especially enjoy the review on incest porn. As much as i try to portray the opposite, my personal life is much more morbid and sordid than my work life could ever be. The dungeon is a clinical, clean cut business, offering all fetish fantasy role-play. Straight forward enough. My life meanwhile is a fantasy role-play with the occasional hint of reality. In my dungeon role I am the owner, manager and Mistress. I am firmly established as a package, respected as all three as all three have the same personality. I only have to be the one person to fit all three roles. At home however I strive to be a doll. I wear my custom made dolly dresses, dolly shoes, I curl my dolly hair and dance my dolly dance. Then I become compelled to be a sex doll, sitting on my dildo chair while wanking with my angel egg. Then I feel the need to dress in my pyjamas and watch malcolm in the middle while pretending to my flat mate I've been up to nothing at all. Sometimes I pretend I can play the piano , and sit crossed legged at the bottom of my bed while my cats watch me sing cornflake girl while playing the duvet which in my mind are the keys of my grand piano. I seem to have more fun by myself, maybe its the solitude and no judging eyes around me.