kneeling down, hair spread over her shoulders,
she kneels, eyes lowered, not seeing the beholder
her eyes sparkle when she smiles,
her feet show blisters of walking miles,
Dust on her silks, and smeared on her nose,
she is a thing of beauty, as precious as a rose
kneeling down, she bites at her lip,
spreading her thighs, hands resting on hips
she kneels back, her body on display,
she smiles a bit and you hear, "Mistress, may we play?"
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