My dearest lord and master,

This girl entreats you to allow her to share her thoughts with you.

This girl stood in the kitchen of our castle and begged to disturb you with questions, questions of how she may serve you better. You regarded this girl with sharp humor in your eyes. Your brow arched in laughter. You reached forth and grasped most firmly the nubbin that crowns this girls heaving breast and using it as the shortest of leashes forced this girl to turn and stand facing you. This girl squeaked and stammered as all words fled from her lips.

You laughed and evilly demanded, "What, what... speak up, wench." This girl struggled to speak. Gathering her shattered thoughts, she once more began to speak and your strong knuckles gripped and lifted that tortured jewel and forced this girl to stand on her tip toes. As she gasped and moaned your lips closed hers with kisses most sweet and demanding. Desire careened through this girl. Her loins speaking louder than her lips. Your hands and mouth plundered this girls mind of thought.

Finally your grip on this girls nipple relented and you allowed her to lower herself from her toes. She stood swaying, her breath coming in short gasps, her lips painted and wet with the sweet moisture of your mouth.

Once more you laugh and demand, "You wanted to ask me something?" This girls eyes looked upon you with confusion. Say something? This girl had forgotten she had the power of speech. Your grip on this girls nubbin tightened and pulled forcing a soft shriek of panic from this girls lips. With the easiest of motions you spun this girl like a ballet dancer around to face away and your heavy hand punished this girls buttocks most cruelly. "Speak up, wench, you had something to say. Say it." This girl yelps and jumps, most careful to not fight the grasp that had her so perfectly trapped, trapped with lances of sweet pleasure and pain. She stammered and stuttered her questions as you continued to swat her quivering cheeks.

When this girl has finally gasped out her questions she falls silent. Your laughter echoes in the kitchen, joining with the deep breathing and moans of this girl. Your fingers spin her once more to regard you, to face your laughing face. You casually swing your hand to and fro, forcing this girl to sway and turn in your grasp like a trembling puppet.

When this girl is reduced to a mere vessel filled with naught but the trembling jelly of desire you finally release your pinching pull on her. Your eyes darken. The intensity of your gaze forces this girl to her knees. She looks up at you. Her lips wide and wordless as you fill her mouth with your heat. The force of your need brings tears to this girls eyes. This girl eagerly drinks down the gift of your essence.

You smile with triumph and lift this girl into your arms. Your warm chest soothing her aching nub, your sweet hands stroking her hair and back. This girl leans heavily against you, inhaling your scent, coffee, cigarettes, the soap of your shower. Your hand traces down and gently strokes and squeezes this girls buttocks. Once more a firm sharp slap, just one, makes this girl jump and yelp.

"You talk to much. Learn to listen to your body. It has all the answers."

You push this girl back and regard this girls flushed and needy face. You gently kiss a single soft kiss on her lips and leave out the door for your daily duty. Leaving this girl to contend with her shattered senses and throbbing loins. This girl knows she will do nothing to ease her torment.

Her body calls your name, begs for more. She craves the throbbing empty ache you leave her with, this endless song of need. Every breath will echo with her body's secret language.

This girl thanks her Lord and Master for giving her this gift in the morning. It was just minutes of your time but it made this girl giddy with lust and happiness throughout the day.

This girl thanks her Lord and Master for allowing her to share her thoughts.

* * * * *


On your knees girl. Your face and eyes are infinitely more beautiful gazing up at me from below. Silence wench. I care not to listen to your words. Your eyes speak so much more eloquently.

Your wet eyes, your quivering lips, your pert nipples, your dripping pussy... They speak to me. They taunt me. They demand my attention. Own us, use us. The confusion in your eyes as they clamor for my touch amuses me. The language of your body trumps the use of your mind. Forget your words, let your body speak.

Wench your lips are not for words. They are a mere portal for the gasps of pain and lust. They exist to please me, to worship me from below. Your eyes gazing up into mine as I plunder your mouth with my cock, tears beading your lashes and tracing down your cheeks. Your tears say more to me than a thousand words. I am listening to your tears. Do not to disrupt my peace with endless prattle.

Use your body for feeling not for thinking, not for talking. Listen to your body, it knows what it needs. It pleads to be bound to me with restraints of hemp and love. It asks to be owned, violated, stretched, mauled, bitten, spanked. Your flesh begs to quiver with the impact of my ownership. It screams for surrender.

I live to hear these screams for surrender. Screams of surrender. You need this cleansing, erasing words from your busy brain. Purging thought, teaching what is central to our existence. Primal, primitive, hunger, need, lust, love... these are simple words to apply to the rhythm of our dance. Words that I can hear from your eyes, your tears, the sound of your heart beating, the breathy rhythm of your gasps.

Don't talk. I am too busy listening to you for the distraction of words. I do not need your words of thankfulness. The soft quiver of your lips as you smile, the beads of sweat on your body, the heaving of your breath, the sweet tremble of your limbs, these speak of your happiness, your completeness, your gratitude.

Wench when I return to our castle from my tasks of slaying dragons. I expect you to be on your knees. Let no words pass your lips. I intend to be preoccupied with the language of your body.

Your Lord and Master.

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