Today I have successfully completed my composition. Mr Headington says he knows someone with recording equipment, and perhaps if I am especially attentive to him, he will allow me to make a tape of some of my music, provided I continue to perform exceptionally.
On that note, I have also successfully tamed my gag reflex. It took longer than I expected, and one time I did become sick when Mr Headington was vigourously thrusting into my mouth. He did strike me then, despite his earlier assertion that he would not anymore, but I suppose one cannot blame him.
I've also realised that I don't much care for the the taste of semen. The texture is disgusting, and it leaves a foul taste in my mouth. However, I suppose this is a small price to pay to not be subject to stifling boredom every week. Plus, if I can manage to continue to please Mr Headington, there is a chance I will be able to record my music.
Sherlock Holmes *****
30 June 1992 Dear Journal,
Today I am rather unhappy. No news on making a tape yet, which is disappointing. I've begun to compose a new piece, but it is very slow going. I feel as though I've hit a plateau, which is really upsetting, as I've only written one piece. Surely I can't have used up all my ability in one go?
I have another assignment as well. I've been instructed to begin stretching myself down there. I hate it. It hurts and feels wrong. I'm supposed to work my way up to two fingers by next week, and I just don't want to. Everything is terrible today.
Sherlock Holmes *****
14 July 1992 Dear Journal,
Today I am still unhappy. Actually, I've been unhappy since I last wrote. My new composition is terrible. Nothing fits together, and I can't concentrate enough to make it make sense. Mr Headington is not pleased. He hasn't mentioned making a tape again, and I'm not about to ask until I come up with something worth recording.
He is also not happy with me because I just can't get used to the feeling of something in my arse. I've been trying every night, as instructed, but it doesn't get any easier. I asked if we could just stick to blowjobs and handjobs, but that idea was not well met. I was reminded that this arrangement was my idea, which is true, and that teaching how to compose was not part of what was agreed upon when he was hired. He has also been true to his word about not telling Mummy and Father that I've skipped so many lessons.
I have been given one more week to reach the goal given to me.
Also, Mycroft has been on me again about my weight. I'm now about eight stone even. He says I look ill. I still say he's a twat... And a fat one at that!
Re: Dear John (part 3/?)
16 June 1992
Dear Journal,
Today I have successfully completed my composition. Mr Headington says he knows someone with recording equipment, and perhaps if I am especially attentive to him, he will allow me to make a tape of some of my music, provided I continue to perform exceptionally.
On that note, I have also successfully tamed my gag reflex. It took longer than I expected, and one time I did become sick when Mr Headington was vigourously thrusting into my mouth. He did strike me then, despite his earlier assertion that he would not anymore, but I suppose one cannot blame him.
I've also realised that I don't much care for the the taste of semen. The texture is disgusting, and it leaves a foul taste in my mouth. However, I suppose this is a small price to pay to not be subject to stifling boredom every week. Plus, if I can manage to continue to please Mr Headington, there is a chance I will be able to record my music.
Sherlock Holmes
*****
30 June 1992
Dear Journal,
Today I am rather unhappy. No news on making a tape yet, which is disappointing. I've begun to compose a new piece, but it is very slow going. I feel as though I've hit a plateau, which is really upsetting, as I've only written one piece. Surely I can't have used up all my ability in one go?
I have another assignment as well. I've been instructed to begin stretching myself down there. I hate it. It hurts and feels wrong. I'm supposed to work my way up to two fingers by next week, and I just don't want to. Everything is terrible today.
Sherlock Holmes
*****
14 July 1992
Dear Journal,
Today I am still unhappy. Actually, I've been unhappy since I last wrote. My new composition is terrible. Nothing fits together, and I can't concentrate enough to make it make sense. Mr Headington is not pleased. He hasn't mentioned making a tape again, and I'm not about to ask until I come up with something worth recording.
He is also not happy with me because I just can't get used to the feeling of something in my arse. I've been trying every night, as instructed, but it doesn't get any easier. I asked if we could just stick to blowjobs and handjobs, but that idea was not well met. I was reminded that this arrangement was my idea, which is true, and that teaching how to compose was not part of what was agreed upon when he was hired. He has also been true to his word about not telling Mummy and Father that I've skipped so many lessons.
I have been given one more week to reach the goal given to me.
Also, Mycroft has been on me again about my weight. I'm now about eight stone even. He says I look ill. I still say he's a twat... And a fat one at that!
Sherlock Holmes
*****
21 July 1992
FUCKING HELL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
TBC