Thirteen Inches. Confirmed. She Sounded Like That Again.

Thirteen inches. Confirmed. He was here again last night and I want to record this accurately because accuracy is the only thing I have left that is mine: she sounded like that again. The same way. The specific sound that a woman makes when she is being fucked by thirteen confirmed inches of a real man, which is not a sound I have ever produced and have never been close to producing and have prepaid to be in this room to hear. I have been in The Controller's Compound for twenty-one months. The cage Mistress Lynne fitted at intake is steel and locked and has not opened once in twenty-one months and my body is behind it right now, exactly as it should be, and he was in the next room last night with thirteen confirmed inches. The purple light under the door was on, which is the signal. I know the signal. I prepaid to know the signal and to be on this side of the door when it is lit.

I want to be precise about the measurement because precision is the point. Thirteen inches is not approximate. It is not "bigger" or "more than me" — it is a specific documented number arrived at by the same person who measured me, using the same instrument, in the same context, and the gap between his number and mine is the gap I have been locked in for twenty-one months. When she is with him, she sounds the way she sounds. When she was with me, she did not sound like that. This is not a complaint. This is a documented fact of the arrangement I prepaid to participate in. I came to Mistress Lynne knowing what I was paying for: the cage, the watching, the sound, and the confirmed measurement repeated to me at intervals so that the number never becomes abstract. Thirteen inches. Confirmed. It does not become abstract. It is the most concrete fact of my life and has been for twenty-one months.

She sounded like that again last night and this morning I transferred the monthly amount and Mistress Lynne acknowledged receipt. That is the arrangement. The transfer is part of it — paying each month to be in this compound, behind this cage, on this side of the door when the purple light is on. The cage does not commemorate what I lack. This is not loss. The cage commemorates the gap between what I am and what thirteen confirmed inches is, which is the specific thing I paid to have commemorated, and it is doing that exactly as I specified. I prepaid for this. Every month I prepay again. He was here last night. She sounded like that again. Thirteen inches, confirmed. I have been here twenty-one months and the arrangement is proceeding correctly.