And don't call me honey."Mom tried to reason, "Sweetheart, don't act like that."I picked up a pillow and threatened to throw it at her, "I said out, ...om, and never call me sweetheart, either."Mom looked dejected, but she did leave my room and closed the door. I kept sitting there for some time, looking at the door, still clutching my round pillow. I felt angry at the world for putting me in this situation. I even felt sorry for myself. I was convinced that my life was now officially over. I. What music I listened to... whatfoods I preferred. In no time he was changing me into what hedesired. And all of this via IM's!!After several weeks of online and phone chatting Reggie decided weneeded to meet. He instructed me to drive the two hours to his townand spend Friday and Saturday nights with him. I could hardly believemy eyes and readily agreed. I knew it was time to serve my blackmaster. I was instructed to check into a local motel Friday morningto transform myself and to report to. "In other words, one that is deemed to be an appropriate response to a particular behaviour."By BOTH parties."What I am talking about here is a real, dyed-in-the-wool, consensual punishment. One that is expected. One that is known and agreed to and 'right' according to the protagonists... "Let's make those assumptions... "That slap would need to be of a particular force that, in the first place, was 'controlled'. It could not be delivered in the heat of the moment. No, no, no, no. Not at all.. "And if you're not the guy I was supposed to meet, who cares? You still give good tongue, and the rest of you seems glad to meet me."It quickly became apparent that my buddy had not been concerned about anything as pedestrian as my self-image. He had diagnosed me as too boring and had a precise prescription: sex and thrills. At the same time.Clarissa all but raped me that first day. I was pulled along in her wake into a torrid affair. Meals and the theater and such were just things to do in.