When I travel to foreign countries, I promise to myself that I will view all that there is to view, I will spot all that there is to spot, and I will ask all that there is to ask. I prepare myself like an obsessive traveller, purchasing expensive beginners guides to the native language, or tourist guides to the cultural hubs of the country. Yet, when I visited Holland I did no such thing, for I suspected I would be without urge to see anything beyond the walls of Drizzle's home, and indeed I was correct.

Drizzle booked only one day's holiday for the duration of my stay, though this didn't halt my captivity. I could have requested the freedom to wander in my regular manner around the Dutch towns, as I had only visited Amsterdam once as a younger teenager, accompanied by a couple of friends, and had seen little past the art galeries and Anne Frank museum. I longed to peruse through the shops, and stroll through the evening X-rated streets of sexy clubs and bars.

But I was happy to accept the destiny that Drizzle had determined for me.

It was a particular evening that I look back upon and feel that burning excitement in the pit of my stomach.

Drizzle had a work's party with friends, and opted not to invite me, instead leaving me at home, alone. I was left, handcuffed to the radiator, nude and alone. Still buzzing and stinging from the demoralisation that had occurred before she had begun preparing for the evening ahead, I was left in almost darkness with nothing but a dimly lit lamp to allow me to see the photographs laid out around me. Drizzle, donning sexy dominatrix latex and fishnets, various poses exposing her toned and tanned body. My lower lips clipped open with laundry pegs and a vibrator pushed inside me, whirring away.

When she returned at midnight, she was intoxicated and smelled faintly of cannabis. She undressed before me, telling me about her evening, not asking how I had been. She asked if I would like to be uncuffed, to which I simply smiled. She said, "Don't be so rude, I was offering to do you a favour," before grapping the whip from the bedside table and lashing me four times across my right hip.

Whipping her pants aside, she thrust her pelvis into my face, demanding I pleasure her orally - the vibrator still whirring inside me. I happily obliged, appreciating the juices after a long evening of dehydration. After several ecstasy-filled minutes, she pulled away, crouching beside me and playing with the end of the vibrator, making it adjust positions within me and reaching spots it had been unable to reach all evening. The sensations that had become almost numb suddenly gained new life, and it was all I could do not to moan.

She did this for only a few moments, before stopping abruptly and harshly ripping it out. She thrust it into my mouth, demanding: "Lick it clean" to which I did with pleasure, as my own taste pleases me.

She asked if I would like to be uncuffed. I was hungry by this point, following my four or five hour stint attached to the radiator, and fancied my freedom, so I pitifully nodded. She giggled slightly, reaching to uncuff me, before suddenly slapping my face brutally. "Tough luck," she smirked, before pulling on her lilac silken dressing gown and bending in to kiss me erotically.

Flicking the switch on the light, I saw her silouhette moving gracefully across the room, climbing onto the bed and pulling the cover over herself. The hunger beginning to ache inside me and desperate sickness causing my chest to throb, I rested my head against the wall. Within minutes her breathe had deepened and she was asleep, and my only thoughts were that I didn't care if she didn't uncuff me in the morning.

I was thrilled to be suffering in such a manner to the point that I didn't need to see the photographs, or to feel the vibrator inside me, I was orgasmic enough - just from the memories of the hours before - to thoroughly enjoy the entire evening of sleep deprivation.