deidre, deidre, deidre. the girl tells Me she likes it when I show pictures that remind her where she’s been with Me. So all I’m thinking of is… hmmm…. perhaps I’ll show her My big beautiful bed. Will that convince her to leave her Master and spend her lifetime serving MEEEE…….. hehe. Yeah I know, wishful thinking. But fuck if she’s not inside My head all the time. I can’t even eat one decent meal without thinking about her. I always picture her naked wearing just an apron, serving it to Me on her knees. And I picture her saying things like, “deidre begs for permission to bring you your dinner, Miss Isabella.” Because she just says things like that so beautifully. And I can’t stop thinking about her. I toss and turn all night thinking about her the same way that My clients do about Me and now I understand the frustration of wanting someone you can’t have. I want someone completely unobtainable. I want deidre. I want someone I can’t have. And I hate not having what I want sooooo bad. I’d be willing to do anything, other than share her. I want her. I want her soul. I want her mind. I want to live and breathe her. she makes Me weak in a way no one else has. I feel like puddy right now. The thought of losing her forever kills Me and devastates Me more than many built-up emotions that I have and I really can’t explain it knowing I’ve only spent a short time with her. Fuck. Why did she have to “get to Me” like this. All I really wanted to do was record some two-girl recordings in the studio with her. I had no intention of letting things get as far as they did. Letting her into My bed… now I only picture her pleasuring Me. her beautiful naked body…. the way she smiled at Me while I’m cumming all over her fingers. My God. I want her and I need her. I need her like I need air to breathe.

Every time I meet another girl and she and I try to flirt with another, all I’m thinking is, “She’s not deidre.” And I can’t get into her. Strippers no longer do anything for Me. When I masturbate, I’m wishing deidre could hear the wetness of My fingers going in and out of My pussy so she knows I’m masturbating for her and only her. That sometimes when I cum, I call out her name. She brings the weakness out of Me, draining it slowly…. soo slowly.

People ask Me how I was able to create something like “Cocoon Submission” as an ode to slaves so beautifully and the thing is, I wrote it imagining I was deidre and what submission to Isabella must be like. When I created “The Tease,” I was thinking of all the relentless teasing that deidre did to Me while she was here. It was payback on all the guys. In fact a lot of My new recordings have soooo many inspirations that deidre has brought out of Me that I would have had great difficulty trying to do before. My latest recording “Mind Tattoo” (although inspired by the Brainstorm Vault) was even more inspired by her because I understood her fear of branding (the pain) and also her willingness to let someone permanently leave their mark forever. she inspires Me. she weakens Me. she arouses Me. she kills Me slowly with each passing day. At this point in My life, there is no one else I want. I’d be lying if I didn’t say I haven’t thought of all the possible reasons she’d come running to Me – each practically impossible. My thoughts are overwhelmed with this. It’s almost funny because these are the same things that My customers tell Me and I usually think it’s hilarious… but now I understand and it really is heartbreaking. The emotional toll it takes on someone can make or break someone.

englishboy, who knows all too well of My love for deidre, wrote this poem:

deidre you bad bad girl
You made my wise head whirl
I tanned your touche
You spanked my soul
You quite forgot your role

deidre you bad bad girl
You’ve fished and found my pearl
You deep sea diver
My ocean’s a quiver
I grit my teeth and shiver

deidre you bad bad girl
I watched your mouth unfurl
Your smiling flag inside my sex
And saw you sink my sapphic ships
Between your greedy lips

deidre you bad bad girl
I think I’m gonna hurl
You’ve gone and left me
It’s a disaster
You’ve gone back to your master

So off you ran
“As fast as you can”
Back to your number one man. . .
So why do my lips still curl?
‘Cos I’M your number one GIRL!

–(englishboy)

Love
Isabella
xoxoox