What an unbelievable week it’s been – for all the wrong reasons. When it rains it pours and there’s been a literal monsoon in my dungeon. A burst pipe from above has thrown everything into disarray and left me with some seriously soggy upholstery…amongst other things. Thank god rubber is waterproof. Dildos were floating like rubber ducks on a village pond when I opened the dungeon door on Monday but thankfully they’re unharmed. Plus I’m pleased not to have to list these on the insurance claims form.

So perhaps you’ll understand why I’m not sad to see the back of November. And why I’m welcoming December with open arms – a shiny new month bristling and quivering with festive excitement. It’s time to cash in on all my festive cliches – stuffing and basting Turkeys, wielding candy canes, and sumptuous stockings with seams that disappear into the snowy distance.

As a silver lining to my moisture soaked situation, I am still counting my blessings. I have had ample opportunities to thoroughly vent my frustrations. I have been able to wield my cane with wanton abandonment on a great many occasions. I have engaged in the most fabulous session of tickle torture…proving once and for all that laughter is the best medicine (closely followed by cocktails). My feet have been expertly massaged on occasion. And I have been delighted to welcome some new subjects into my exclusive fold, as well as get to know old ones even better. BDSM is an incredible learning curve and challenges and intrigues me every single day.

A little snippet from a devoted doormat:

‘It was heartless too that you took forever to slip off your stilettos; enjoying my torment, you ordered me to stare at your Louboutins as they pivoted, completely captivating me, whilst I yearned for them to come off so I could see your red pedicure. You even made me kiss your heels before they were finally discarded. You then raised your bare soles to my face, only to reprimand me for an apparently ‘unauthorised’ kiss by replacing your stilettos and firmly punishing me, over your knee, to fully humiliate me. So cruel.’

Right, after my week from hell I’m going to put my perfect feet up (footstalls apply here), light some candles (wax sluts show yourself) listen to Johnny Cash (Cash deniers be gone) and write my Christmas list.

I’ve been REALLY good this year….in all the wrong ways. Santa’s bulging sack is seriously going to struggle to fit down my chimney.