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.I thought it would be okay to call him once we got there, but it wasn't okay.I got a stiff whipping out of that, and a new cell phone.When my old one had died I hadn't bothered replacing it; I'd never made many calls when I was out, and all the unused minutes had felt like a waste.Now that I had one again, its only purpose was to report in to Anders, and for him to keep tabs on my whereabouts.He also began monitoring my expenses; one look at the mess my finances were in and he'd taken over.My phone frugality was more than compensated for in other areas.No more impulse buys, no more disorganization.I had to account for every penny I spent, so I spent almost nothing.School had reached a fever pitch, and the days went by with only short visits from Anders in which he inspected me, examined my work, gave crisp, specific praise when it was deserved, and grilled me in detail on any insufficiencies.So much for not getting into trouble.Most nights I had to lean over my chair, bottom bared, and count blows from a crop which made remarkably little noise, given how much it stung.Then he'd leave, and I 106As She’s Told – Anneke Jacobwould sit down gingerly and try to address what I'd done wrong, try to concentrate and get back to work.Those awful dreams I had seemed to set the tone for at least half of my unconscious hours.In my dreams I climbed fences, and either couldn't get back, or fell off the cliffs beyond them.Right into Niagara Gorge in one case.Or I wielded Nikki's bolt cutters on barriers, stepped through the resulting openings, and turned to watch complex structures collapse behind me.Or I was back on that horrible beach.I could never find Anders, and it was always my fault; a moment's foolish impulse had ruined everything.The chain around my waist became a talisman when I awoke, and sometimes I tried to sleep with a hand curled round it, hoping it would act like a dreamcatcher and fend off the nightmares.During the day my rational side was uppermost.I knew that waiting a few more weeks wouldn't kill me, and that Anders would hardly let me walk away on a whim.But the dreams left their residue.I felt loose and rattly sometimes, at risk of damage, as if I was in a moving car without a seatbelt.This was odd, really, because I could hardly make a move without running into Anders' restrictions.What I wore, where I went, every decision I made was sifted through a screen of his rules, expectations and punishments.Gradually every thought became coloured by the hope of pleasing him, and the growing fear of what he might do if I didn't.I'd often had a fault-finding 'watcher' travelling with me.I guess most self-conscious people have their own resident critic, forever sitting in judgment.Not surprisingly, Anders quickly became that unseen onlooker and judge.I never felt entirely away from his monitoring eye.My usual self-criticism was intensified and given a whole new meaning.I was moving and adjusting myself to his invisible presence.And in any case I carried him with me, in the chain I couldn't remove, the cellphone that tied me to him, the clothes he made me wear and not wear, the flesh that he pleasured and manipulated and punished.Those words of Patient Griselda became a kind of mantra in my head.When Anders examined me he insisted that I tell him anything I thought I'd done wrong, and under such questioning I couldn't hold back; his eye for my deceits was as acute and intolerant as it was for prevaricating politicians.Actually, it seemed to me that he already knew what I'd done wrong and was just waiting for me to confess.So I told him about staying up past the 107As She’s Told – Anneke Jacobbedtime he'd imposed, or skipping lunch, or forgetting a meeting.Then I'd count the strokes, try to hold back the tears, and get down on my knees and kiss the whip and his hand when he was done.Our contact during this period consisted only of these brief encounters and frequent phone conversations.We never went to his house in those weeks; he'd decided that I didn't have time.He had gauged the levels of distraction and discipline that should produce optimum performance, he told me, and didn't want to disturb the balance until school was over.And he got it right, more often than not.In fact, it was a bit uncanny how right he was.He didn't tease me at all; clearly he'd decided that wasn't going to get me onto the Dean's list.Unless I was already aroused, a quick and painful whipping was real punishment, and brought me to only manageable levels of sexual tension, spread out over the hours that followed as the pain subsided and the heat increased.Since he usually whipped me in the evenings, the lust mostly disturbed my dreams (those were the good ones), and not so much my waking, non-stop days.Invasive as all this was, it wasn't enough.I oscillated between longing urgently for more restrictions and chafing against the ones I had.It was frustrating not being able to goof off sometimes, browse in shops, read a book.I liked buying things on impulse – books I'd read that I'd always wanted to own, clothes I admired but could do without.But I wasn't allowed.I chafed, and had sneaky teenaged rebellious thoughts.But less and less as time went by.I remembered that it was Anders who didn't allow it.And what he wanted had become the central pin upon which I turned.I began to curl up within his boundaries, like a child in loving arms.***>academic help especially seems questionable.This is all quite time-devouring; where is your time to run someone else's life as well as your own? (I do not mention the arrogance.) >What self-restraint you have.The time is just a matter of organization.Supplies of arrogance are holding up well.I don't write her papers for her, if that's what you're worried>about.How could I? It's not my field.Think of it as mentoring – and motivating – a disorganized student.>this is one of the advantages of having a domme for a partner; day to day I am not responsible for another>If all you want from subs is play, then of course, your 108As She’s Told – Anneke Jacobresponsibilities are minimal.I want something very different.>I think you will become tired of dependence and managing detail, and just say, "Go! Decide for yourself how to chop the broccoli!">Sure, as long as I can punish her if she does it wrong.I have very definite ideas on how broccoli should be chopped.;-)) You have no idea how controlling I am.Whether she will be able to take that remains to be seen, but I can't see it becoming a problem for me in the foreseeable future.>I'll look after myself; don't worry about me.Just keep watch on whether I'm missing any dangers to her.>I have to be on my guard against the fascination, the temptation to go all out.There are days when all I can think about is the sweetness of her; I can't describe it, even when she is being punished, especially when she is being punished.>funding come through yet?>No.I'm not holding my breath.Another day, another fucking condo approval.>How is your house and all your safety measures?>Woodwork's all finished.Structural stuff is done.The building inspector is coming on Wednesday.Sprinkler and alarm systems are in.I hate to think of what happens to the woodwork if the sprinkler ever goes off, but that's extremely unlikely as the wiring is now thoroughly up to code.I'm still working on finishing details.Speaking of details, thanks for that jpeg; it gave me enough to go on.Graham is adding the locks; I should get the finished pieces within a week.***Anders arrived at Maia's door on a spring Saturday morning that was behaving more like summer
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