Archive | July, 2010


30 Jul

Sir D says that His dungeon does, indeed, have a row of – objects – that look very much like the ones in the picture i posted yesterday.  Hearing that makes my heart beat a little faster.

By 5:00 today, i will be there.

i’ll get home from work about 1 or 1:30.  Take a shower.  Shave, get lotioned up, all that prep work.  i shiver thinking about it.  The thrill of anticipation.

Of course, when we talked last night, He said, “And don’t you dare play with yourself tonight!  Or tomorrow.”  So i haven’t, and you know, i’m already squirming in my chair as i write this. 

i’m glad that i’m not leaving here til after 3:30.  Originally, i’d thought i might go sooner, but when He said to come about 5, it was a blessing.  i could have finished packing and everything last night and this morning, but it would have been a huge push.  This way, i feel like i have time to do the things i need to do.

i bought a dress yesterday.  It’s really cute, not real dressy or anything.  Casual elegance.  It’s not my usual type of clothes either.  Instead of the old hippie, flowing skirts look, it’s short (for me.)  And – well, it’s just different.   i don’t know what it’ll feel like to wear it. 

Assuming i do, cause i’m taking a couple of other options too.   i think “travel light” is a ridiculous concept, if you have a choice.  i hate to get somewhere and think, “Aw, man, see, i should have brought that other skirt.  It would have been perfect!”   i used to be real apologetic about how much i packed, now i don’t figure there’s anybody i need to apologize to, not  for my packing style anyhow.  

Can you tell i’m trying to think about everything except tonight?   But it’s not exactly that i’m avoiding it.

It’s just time to move  from full tilt anticipation to a more relaxed openness.  Receptive  to whatever the weekend brings.  

i may bounce back and forth for a while.  From:  Omigod, omigod, dungeons and paddles and clamps, o my… with my heart beating faster, shivers running through me…

To:   The stillness of being in the moment.  Become aware of my body and the things around me.  Notice my breath move from shallow to smooth. Feel the receptive center of myself.  Be in touch with that place deep inside me that connects with the universe.

I will open my spirit to receive whatever the weekend brings.    

Of course, i hope that includes some of the things i like – the taste of His cock, the opportunity to please Him, even an orgasm or two for me.    And – well, never mind, you know what i like.

But beyond that, i want to be open to appreciating who He is, to seeing beyond my own fantasies and expectations.    i want the release from self that submission brings.  

i want to bring to the evening the attitude of the Hindu greeting, “Namaste,”  often accompanied by a slight bow of the head.   Translated,  “The God in me greets the God in you.”  

i may not say it, but when i see him tonight, i will think, “Namaste.”


29 Jul

i’m going to visit Sir D. tomorrow.  It’s a fairly short trip in terms of the drive – about an hour and a half.  But it feels like crossing into a foreign country.

He has a dungeon in his basement. 


This is the only picture of a dungeon i could find.

Picture of a dungeon, by david shankbone

That was in Wikipedia.  Obviously, i don’t know what Sir D’s dungeon looks like.   I’m pretty sure the blonde won’t be in it.  <giggles>

You probably won’t be surprised to know that just thinking about it makes me – yes, wet.  And hot.  i don’t know if that’s just because i’m really such a newbie or if i’ll always be like this. 

i don’t think we’re going to do any kind of extreme play while i’m there.  Sir D is eminently safe and sane, and if i were afraid, i wouldn’t be going.  But not knowing what we’re going to do turns me on all by itself. 

i thought about that last night, when i couldn’t sleep.   Tried to imagine what it would feel like.  Imagined being aware of Him next to me.   Going down some stairs – He opens a door.  Will there be a wall like this? 

Dungeon Equipment

A while ago, He told me the things that He has in the dungeon.  i don’t remember all of them.  In fact, i don’t trust my memory.  A spanking bench?  A mirror?  Hooks for suspension?  It gives me chills to think about it. 

Fortunately, He hasn’t told me not to touch myself, cause while i’m lying there thinking about all this last night, i’m getting further and further away from sleep.

So i do the sensible thing.  i  begin to touch myself.  i’m already wet, and have been half-excited all day.  A moist finger rubbing my clit, o, that’s nice.  A spanking bench.  O, my.  Tingling between my legs, tensing my muscles.  Rubbing gently, taking the directest route, nothing fancy.  Looking for a straight path to the pleasure of release.   

Thinking about control and letting go.  Sir D’s voice, His hands, his mouth.  The memory of His body.  The mark on my right breast, still there,  faded to a pale yellow.   O, the tingle spreads down my legs, my ass raises slightly off the bed, hips thrusting into the air…  It didn’t take me any time at all to feel the relief –  over the top, and down again, shuddering  with pleasure. 

So, just one more day.  Tomorrow i go to visit Sir D.  i can’t wait…


And on a whole different note, last night i got a comment from Mick, someone who saw my link on sin’s blog, .   He liked my blog, and he left a comment, and you have no idea how much that thrills and delights me!   His blog is and is on my blogroll too. 

I also have a new personal record for hits on my blog in one day – 41.  Having discovered that blogs like sin’s and mick’s get hundreds of hits every day, that may sound a little sad, but still.  It makes me really happy.  🙂

Waking up Hot

28 Jul

i wake up hot.  Not sweaty hot, but turned on hot, my pussy is tingling and i haven’t even opened my eyes yet.  This is not even reasonable.  I think it started in my dreams. 

In my dreams, i am drawn to Him as if we are magnets, pulled toward Him.  But then He stops me, holds me dangling, inches away from Him.  Touching me lightly, gently. 

It is just a dream.  Not a cock worshipping dream, not a bend-over I’m-going-to-spank-you dream.  In the dream, He holds me dangling in the air, close, and not so close.  He touches me.

He is in control.

i wake up frustrated, wanting more.  Tingling, a little wet, feeling empty, wanting more.   If He were here, i would slip beneath the covers and awaken Him with my mouth.  

Instead, i lie here alone, aching a little, my pussy feeling neglected and forlorn.  Not wanting to take care of myself today.  


Two more days…

Lazy Sunday

26 Jul

There’s hardly anything i like more than taking a nap on Sunday afternoon.  This week, i expected it to be particularly pleasant.  i’d just gotten home from a two-day conference which had been wonderful and exhausting.    

i  unpack, give my cats fresh food and water, and slip out of my clothes.  Put on an extra-large t-shirt.    Set the kitchen timer for an hour, and lie down on the couch, which is my favorite place to nap. 

Almost immediately, i realize i’m too tense to sleep.  Hmmm.  i know how to solve this problem… i shift to lying on my back, put my feet flat on the couch, knees bent and raised.

It’s only four days since i’ve seen Him, and there’s still plenty of material for fantasy there.   First, i flip the mental pages of memories i’ve already shared here.  One hand rests between my legs, warming myself, the other strokes my left nipple.

i squirm a little.  My nipples can’t possibly still be sensitive 4 days later, but it feels like they are.  Barely touching them and they’re immediately hard, which makes me wet.  i gently stroke myself.  Feel my pussy throb.   

i’m distracted for a minute by thoughts of the workshop i’d attended, which was on reproductive health.  i find myself thinking about the inner and outer labia, bartholin glands, and the clit.  Did you know the clit has as many nerve endings in that tiny area as the entire penis?  i slip my finger inside myself just enough to get it wet, begin to lightly rub that ever so sensitive spot.  Mmmmm.    

When He was here, He had left a pile of – implements – on the dining room table.   Canes and a paddle and such.  He was in the shower when my attention was drawn to the pile, and when He comes out, i am standing by the table, just looking.  i move away from them.    

“Oh, you’re interested in my toys?” He says.  i make a little “mmmm” noise, still moving away from them, and He says, “No, come here, let’s look at them if you’re interested.”    

So i move back by the table, feeling a little awkward.  Lying on the top is – well, it is clearly a whip, which i don’t remember Him showing me the night before.    

Cat of nine tails. It was not as big as i might have thought it would be, but pretty intimidating anyhow.

“Were you looking at this?” He says, touching the braided strands.  i nod.  He picks it up.  “That’s a cat of nine tails,” He says.  “Do you know about them?”    

“i’ve, well, i’ve heard of them before , but i don’t know…” i say.    

“Well,” He lays it back on the table so the strands – the tails – are separated.  “This one’s made of braided leather, and you can see there are nine of them.”  i nod, and tentatively touch one, hold it between my thumb and finger.   i am aware of my breath, aware of Him.  i’m aroused and a little afraid.      

“The power,” He says, “What makes it different, is because the handle is weighted.  It’s weighted with lead, so it’s heavy.  That causes energy to flow, through the handle…” and He strikes it in the air quickly, makes it snap, “so it carries more impact.”     

Laying it back down on the table, He says, “I think that’s way too advanced for you right now,” and i’m quick to agree.   But i’m turned on, no mistake about it, it makes me wet.    

And lying on the couch, stroking myself, one hand between my legs caressing my clit, the other hand teasing a nipple, remembering those moments still turns me on.  Tensing my muscles, legs tingling a little, my swollen pussy almost ready to cum, i think about the power.  His power.  And that brings me closer to the edge.    

And then, hips raising off the couch a little, i think about my pussy being filled, impaled on a cock, thrusting into me… and i’m stroking faster, rhythmically, i whimper a little.   i think about bending over the bed, being taken, filled from behind, a hand between my legs, pinned between His body behind me, His hand in front… and that takes me higher, up and up, over the top….    

…. and down, ahhhhhhh, trembling, shaken, and satisfied.      

O.  Yes.    


Tension drained.  i roll onto my side.  Smile.  Bet i can take a nap now… 

My Own Path

24 Jul

Memories of sensations linger from my evening with Sir D.   i shiver, the deep shiver that runs through my spine, and makes my pussy clench, leaves me wet.  Sigh.  Things i’d never known existed.

This is a vampire glove. 

Into intense sensation? These gloves contain nearly 100 1/8 tacks that create a indescribable sensation over the part of your body that is being touched. These gloves will not puncture the skin unless they are used out of context (ex. slapping, grabbing, excessive force, etc..). These gloves are made from lambskin leather and contain a button snap at the wrist for a nice snug fit.

 i had no idea what He was touching me with.   It felt good; He was being really gentle.  But there was a hint of warning in the touch that left no doubt:  this could be dangerous. 

Then there was the more familiar:

He had something that looked like this. I didn't find it under BDSM toys though; it's a common household duster.

 Of course the soft, fluffy duster feels incredibly good, and safe, after the glove.  Purely sensual pleasure.  Ahhhh.

i revel in the memory of new sensations,  and in the relationship. 

And then, o, goody, High-School Aisha pipes up.   She chides me – “It wasn’t very long ago you were writing about some other ‘Sir,’ now was it?  Don’t you think you should have waited a little longer before rushing into some new thing?  And I notice he – this new dominant man – hasn’t called you today, now has he?  How are you going to feel if he doesn’t call you?  Hmmm?”  I expect her to add, “Slut,” but she just shakes her head in dismay. 

There was a time that i might have let High-School Aisha torture me for a while.  Now, i just give her a mental hug.  “Don’t worry,” i say.  “Believe it or not, i know what i’m doing.”  And i try to explain it to her.

“Some people,” i say, “seem to think that a relationship has to last forever or it was wrong.  That ended relationships are terrible failures.   And maybe that’s true for them.  Maybe i even felt that way when i was married the first time.  But now i know that the path i’m on calls me to be who i am.”  High-School Aisha is listening, a little pouty, but listening. 

“It’s not like i keep making the same mistakes over and over,” Older and Wiser me goes on.  “It’s that i keep learning new things; things that i couldn’t have learned if i’d given up being who i am to keep a relationship.”  i sigh.  “Really.  i wouldn’t be who i am if i hadn’t experienced the things i have.  Come on, you know that, don’t you?”

High-School Aisha sighs too.  “Ok,” she says, “I know you’re right.  But really, what if He doesn’t call?”

i shrug, “What if that mark He left on my breast never goes away?  i think you’d be better off worrying about that.”  Which distracts her nicely,  at least for now. 

i smile.  There’s affection in my heart for the man i first called Sir in this blog.  But our relationship had reached a dead end; there was no where for it to go.

Beyond that – even if it sounds corny and stupid – i believe that when the student is ready, the teacher will come.  And i believe that Sir D and i have – mmm, lessons to share.  🙂

After the Wait

22 Jul

 i don’t know where to start.  Sated with pleasure, my nipples sore and tender, memories of last night drift through my mind.  i’ll try to pin them down here, but each one connects to another and another…  

Sir D opens his bag of toys and tools.  Floggers, canes, a crop, a paddle – lightly tapping me with each one as i lean over the table watching Him unpack.   “Or I can use my hand,” He says, “Hands are good,” and they are, with my skirt raised, my panties pooled at my feet. 

And the paddle, stinging, each lick followed by a caress, alternating pleasure and pain til it is all pleasure.  I wriggle my ass, wanting more, but He stops.

Nipple clamps, evil looking clamps, and clothespins, but He doesn’t need them, His fingers twist and pinch til i gasp.  “Talk to me,” He says, loosening His grip ever so slightly, “Talk to me.”

“It hurts,” i say.

“Too much?”

“No, no, it’s ok.”  And it is, i’m so wet there should be puddles beneath me.

Like a potpourri of treats, we move on, sampling, testing – until The Rope.  Hemp rope, He says, as He caresses me with it, draping it around my neck, wrapping and tucking and knotting, til quite suddenly He gives a tug and it all tightens – “Oh, my!” i say, surprised.  

And i am bound.  Just my breasts, my upper body, my back.  Bound, not painfully.  Firmly though.   O, it feels like – no, not quite like anything else.  O.

And was it before or after that i tasted Him?  licking and sucking til He moaned, til i knew He was pleased…  Before or after that i knelt?

And then, while i am still bound, He brings out His array of vibrators, small ones, “These are for external use,” He says, displaying each one.  “This one is called a pocket rocket,” He says,  A pocket rocket.  And if you put it here,” tucking it between the ropes around my breasts, “And turn it on, like this,” He smiles, “the ropes will start to vibrate too.”  

And they do, they’re vibrating and i’m tingling, lying on the bed, legs dangling off the side, open, exposing myself to his eyes and touch.  “And,” He holds up another small vibrator, ” If we put this one right here,”  as he places it right there,  “And turn it on…”

The sensation is so intense, i’m whimpering in moments, heat spreading through my legs – i swear my toes begin to curl, i’m not just saying that… and i bite my finger, squirming –

“Don’t!” he says, “Don’t swallow that orgasm!” Then, gently, “Let it go, don’t hold back,” and i realize i am…

…so i begin to let go, and the heat continues to build until i can’t take it anymore…

…and it explodes inside me, shaking me, a true, rock-my-world orgasm – aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh. 

Nice.  Very, very nice.  Mmmm. 

So content…

But wait – what’s this – He’s pulling out another one – “This one is for external use too,” He says and – o, my – He’s doing it again – and this time i don’t even hold back……

O. My.  Whew.  Ok.

And only then, He begins to remove the rope.  Slowly.   Deliberately.  Watching me while He does.  i watch the rope snake over my body,  feel it chafe my nipples, caress my belly.  O.  O, my.

He takes a long time unwinding, the rope leaving a trail of marks encircling me.  And when He is done, the last piece of rope removed, we sigh.  i feel –

i don’t know how i feel.  i lie beside Him on the bed, pressed close, feeling His warmth.  i drift a little, fading out and back again,  floating a little.  i sigh.  My skin feels – i don’t know.  i don’t have the words for what i feel.

And maybe i don’t need the words, although i always think i do.  Maybe it’s enough this time to lie still,  floating, drifting, feeling…


20 Jul

Most of the time, i haven’t even thought about it.   After all, i work.  i have activities in my life.  Friends.  Chores.  i don’t spend all my time thinking about sex.  (Really.  i don’t.)

But occasionally in the last couple of days, i’ve had to remember that i said i wouldn’t.  The first time, i was reading blogs and

to be exact.  And just as i was relaxing into the experience, feeling my breath quicken a little, noticing the warmth between my legs, thinking maybe it would be nice to –

i remembered.

Like a dash of cold water in my face.  i  finished reading quickly, then, with a sigh and a firm click, i closed the blogs.  

It happened today too.  A thought or two would cross my mind, i’d  start feeling warm,  a little glow.  “Tonight,” i’d think, “before you go to sleep,” and picture myself curled up, relaxed, and –



And it’s not like it was a big deal.  He didn’t even really tell me not to.  Well, not exactly.

“I would like it…” He said.  “It would please Me if…”

“i can do that,” i say, a little shy, but willing.  Feeling heat flood my body.  

i had forgotten how this feels.  How super sensitive i become, the surprise of feeling my panties rubbing lightly against swollen flesh.   The moistness that just stays with me.   That gets worse the more i think about it.    Well, worse, and better.

Better to wait, and  already feel the rush of pleasure that goes with thinking He will be pleased.   Feel the intensity building in anticipation.  The more i think about not being able to right now, the more the feeling grows.  The inside of my thighs begin to tingle.  my nipples grow hard.  

I feel a tinge of shame – how can i be so easy to arouse?   He’ll think i’m quite the little slut.

O.  My.  i guess.  i really am.

And maybe that’s ok.  For the moment, i’m quite content to be waiting for pleasure.  With pleasure. 


Not Just Another Sunday Night

19 Jul

{Before I even start, I need to correct and clarify a couple of things.  It was pointed out to me that the rope experience I had in “Sparks” was actually Japanese rope bondage, so I do have a little bit of experience with that.

Also, JM, the analyst, read Cock Worship, and wanted to be sure I knew that he doesn’t believe that women want a real penis, that it’s symbolic of men’s power.  I did know that, for real, but it may not have sounded like it in my post.  He also challenged my statement that there’s nothing  men can do that I can’t do.  He’s right.  There are some things.  Maybe that’s a post for another day.}

I wake up early, body tingling.  Gentle kisses, sweet caresses have left me longing for more.  Hints of things to come linger on my skin. 

His hand in my hair, you know, right there, at the base of my neck.   His arms around me, strong and warm.

His words seduce.  He probes my thoughts  and I open my mind to him.  He draws me closer  til I’m blushing under his scrutiny.  Fully clothed, in a busy restaurant,  I feel naked.  

We stop for coffee, grab a table before ordering at the counter.   Sitting side by side, I’m contemplating what to drink, when he says, quite casually:

“Would you get me a cup of coffee?   I think I want a mocha.”  And before I can respond, before the request has quite registered, he hands me some money.  

Still without quite thinking, I take the money, “Of course,” I say.  Intensely aware of my body I stand and walk to the line in front of the counter.   I feel my skirt brush against my legs, my calves flexing, hips sway.  The chain on my ankle braclet moves with each step, my breathing grows shallow. 

Feeling heat between my legs, knowing I’m wet, I shift from I to i. 

i place the order, and sit back down, eager for them to call my name so i can serve him the coffee.  But the girl behind the counter brings it out, gives him the wrong cup, and the moment is gone.

i wake up early, body tingling.  Looking forward to things to come.


Lost in thought

16 Jul

I woke up this morning to discover I was out of milk.  Another American tragedy.  Barely enough left  for a half cup of coffee, and then I had to throw on some clothes and go to the store.

Every day, I drive to work the same way.  In fact, the first part of just about any journey is the same for me, and this morning was no different.  As I drove, I was thinking about some conversation I’ve had lately. 

Even though I’ve had some experience in D/s now,  and have been reading, there are still about a zillion things that I don’t know anything about.   Knife play and fire play for starters.  Japanese rope bondage.  And I don’t think I can know whether or not i’m going to like something until I experience it.  

But it can make me tingle to talk about it anyhow.   Is it the content of the conversation that turns me on, or is it just talking to someone who shares an interest in certain pleasures?

Is there real chemistry involved that makes me tingle if we’re talking on the phone?  Or am I just projecting my own fantasy onto his voice.   And if he’s doing the same thing, projecting his fantasies onto me, then what does that mean about the conversation?

I look up to realize that I’ve taken a wrong turn – as if I were going to work, not to the store.  Giggling, I make a left turn, circle though the parking lot, and head in the right direction.

But talking to just anyone doesn’t turn me on.  So maybe there is some phone chemistry involved.  Of course there’s got to be.

And am I thinking about this because it makes me nervous to think about the possibilities of being with someone new?  If I thought about that instead?  O, my.

I picture dungeons and rope.  Knives and fire.  I picture hands on me, touching gently, touching firmly.  O, my.

But this is purely imagination.  This is just me getting myself worked up.

And I pass the turn going the other way for the store.  Now I’m headed back home.  I laugh out loud as I pull into another parking lot and circle back around.  Going to the store for real this time.  

So I can’t really tell if I’m going to like something til I’m there, right?  Just because I get myself a little aroused, a little wet, thinking about it may not mean anything.  Just because he has a nice voice and is easy to talk to doesn’t mean anything.  Right?

He will not look the way I imagine him, even with a picture, it’s never quite the same.  His hands won’t be what I envision.  That won’t matter.  Do I think there’s an immediate connection or non-connection?  I don’t even know.  Maybe.

I picture us at lunch, talking.  Will he say things that make me secretly squirm?  Already there are things he says that do that, that make me start to heat up.  Beyond that is this vast unknown.

Kind of scary.

Kind of exciting.

Maybe it won’t go beyond a lunch, maybe we’ll share a meal and realize that there’s no chemistry, no spark.

I look up and realize – yes, I know it’s hard to believe – I’ve overshot the turn to the store.  For the third time.   Good grief. 

This time, after I turn, I force myself to keep my mind on where I’m going, and actually make it to the store.  So it’s only now, safely back home with milk, sipping a second cup of coffee,  that I let myself finish that thought.

Maybe we’ll have lunch and that will be it.  Maybe we’ll agree that we’re nice people, and go our separate ways.  Smile and say hi if we run into each other at a munch.

Or maybe that will be just the beginning.   And that possibility makes me wet, makes me tingle, makes me smile.

Book cover - Shibari, the Art of Japanese Bondage


Pleasures of the mind

14 Jul

In my vanilla life, things are going so well I can hardly believe it.  I wish I could talk about it here.  I don’t like keeping that life separate from this one.  I am the same person in both worlds; it would be sooo cool to be able to bring them together.

I picture myself bursting out of the D/s closet – wearing a red cape, with elaborately gothic black lettering:  Super Submissvive.  In my red heels, of course.  Under it, I’ll wear black stockings (maybe fishnet?) a garter belt, and a lacy bra that lifts and barely covers my breasts. 

 “Ta dum”  I’ll say, arms raised in a V.  Then I guess I’ll lower my eyes submissively…

Ok, enough of that.  It could happen, but for sure, not today.

In my blog life, really cool things have also happened.  I have been getting more hits on the blog – my current record is 31 in one day.  That just delights me.  And makes me want more.

THEN – I got 2 comments on posts.  You can’t imagine how exciting that was.  For you bloggers who have people comment on your posts ALL the time, that may not seem like a big deal.  But it is to me. 

And really, I would have been happy with that.  But the topper (so to speak) is that Sin, who has an awesome blog called “finding my submission,” added my blog to her list of blogs she likes.  That has kept me doing a little happy dance in my head for days now.    (Thqnk you, Sin!)

It also inspired me to figure out how to do an “Other people’s blog list” myself, and you can see those links over to your right.  It took me forever, so when I finally got it, it was a moment for celebration. 

So it’s not that I’m unhappy.  Or ungrateful.  Actually, I’m bubbling with pleasure,  full of joy that spills over –

– and needs to be shared – intimately.

You know.

i want to be used.  Taken. 

i want to feel His hand smack my ass.  Hard.  Hard enough to leave a handprint, warm and stinging.

i want to feel His mouth on me, hot and wet.  Pulling at my nipple.  Feel the caress between my legs, His tongue exploring.  Making me moan.

i want to feel his hand, firm and strong, wrapped in my hair.  Tugging my head back, leaving my throat exposed.  Making me whimper.

i want to hear him.  His voice, deep and commanding.  Directing.  Ordering.  Demanding.

i want to respond.  To obey.  To please.  i want to offer the caress of  my mouth, my tongue, the back of my throat. 

i want to open my legs, feel Him on top of me, His body pinning me down, feel His cock between my legs, feel Him pressing His way deep into me.  i want to feel Him pounding me, raising my hips in response, meeting each beat til He moans.

And maybe if that was all i wanted, it would be easier to find.  But, you know, i want it all.  i want Him to see me.  To know me.

i want to know Him.  His heart, His mind, His spirit and soul.  i want to hold Him in my heart, and want only the best for Him.  And i want the same for myself. 

i want blazes of passion and nights of sweet tenderness.  i want to kneel in front of Him and massage His feet,  to sit on his lap and be held, to make Him moan and make Him sigh.

i want to be pushed.  i want to have to struggle to obey, to work at taking more.

i want, i want, i want…  Sigh.

This is my call to the universe.  To Him.  Where ever He may be.    i throw my wants out there, like a prayer, and then i let them go.