? The therapist doesn't say anything. Sitting there, he knew we were into BDSM, but we had displayed it in front of him. ?Pet, sweetie mistress want... to help, how does it hurt, I know it hurts bad, shah pet, I want you to think about how it hurts, tell me pet.? ?Mistress, my heart feels, shattered, I feel empty, it just hurts mistress, and it hurts bad.? my clarity had come to an end. ?Shah Pet, I will bring him back next week.? You stroke my hair, attempting to soothe me. ?Shh pet, let’s. For that, in truth, was what I felt; I loved him. And not in the manner of a normal mother, oh, no! In the manner of a woman and a man. I wanted him to protect me as I cared for him, to warm my bed, to prove his love for me on my body. I lost count of how many times I had sobbed myself to sleep knowing the impossibility of my dreams, or tried to work it out of my system by masturbating and imagining I was with someone, anyone else. It never worked, though; my thoughts always returned to. More

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