This morning he had signed into the same site after more than 4 years. He was looking for a specific blog. A specific woman who had invaded his dreams... A patient that couldn't know his identity until she was no longer his patient.She had confided in him that her diagnosis scared her and that her lack of a support system 'in the real world' was making this difficult, but that she had 'online' friends that she could count on for support, guidance, humor and venting. He could see the beautiful. I faced the large wooden X, called a St. Andrews Cross, a Crux decussata. I knew from experience that this cross was smooth the wood polished with the sweat and writhing of submissive’s, both male and female, new or experienced, we all used its solid presence for a moments rest. How many of us stood just as I was now, heart thudding in our ears, so excited and anxious to show the depth of our trust. His fingers brushed against the curve of my breasts as he drew the laces through the eyelets of. More

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