I love you.
I need you.
I want you.
I miss you.
I desire you.
My skin yearns for you.
My mind yearns for you.
My mouth yearns for you.
My pussy yearns for you.
I am yours, my Master.
And you miss me.
And I will take from you tomorrow, my pet. You will think all night about my arrival, and you will think about my departure. I will walk in your door and command you and you will do as I say and I will do to you exactly what I want and take from you all that you are and then I will stand and walk out and you will feel discarded and abandoned. I will place that thought in your mind so that I can access it and feed on your hopelessness and helpless surrender. After I've beaten you I will take your head in my hands and make you tell me you love me while I torture your body and mind for my pleasure and when tears come (and I will make them come, my pet) I will rub my cock on your cheek to catch them and fuck your face and exult in your vulnerability and your utter inability to do other than worship me even as I torment you. And now my last command to you is, after reading this, hold on to your abject misery until we meet tomorrow, so I can use it, like your tits and your mouth, to toy with, to revel in, for my amusement, until I leave you naked, shaken and crying on the floor.
and yet
and still
and always
i love you, my Lord.
You may post anything from this string, including my words. Let your fans watch you suffer too.
And here ends the string, except for a small postscript about the visit. If you missed the previous installments, the serialization of our correspondence began here. Please do comment. My Master is a narcissist and wants to know what you have to say. Especially about him. And I always do my best to give him what he wants.
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5 comments:
Dear Mr. Sadist, og,
few are the lucky women that end up with a mixture of tears and cum on their face, that can have an orgasm at his command while crying tears of deliverance and love, totally, totally naked, body and soul alike.
She is precious. Treasure her.
Ah. Yeats.
"...Being so caught up,
So mastered by the brute blood of the air,
Did she put on his knowledge with his power
Before the indifferent beak could let her drop?"
Of course, he treasures her. And she him.
It is the dichotomy at the center of these connections, don't you think? How indifferent can even Zeus be, when there are so many geese masquerading as swans? How odd - and enlivening - to find a swan, through and through. And not a silent swan. A singing, trumpeting, bawling swan, with a taste - and gift - for art and pain and need.
But also, how enlivening for the swan! Meetings with deities tend to be dangerous...but incandescent.
jcn
OG, the mistress of words meets the Master of pain.
She bursts into flames of beauty and love/lust(?), all fueled by the certainty of His pain, fueled by His love/lust.
Love and warm hugs,
Paul.
I am in utter awe of how you express so very succinctly the craving...the longing...the devotion. You are a gifted writer - thank you! :)
cassie - he does treasure me. And I still hug myself with joy and amazement whenever I reminded of that fact.
jcn - if you knew my Master, you would know that there is never the tiniest hint of indifference about him. He is much too intense and much to deliberate. Am I wrong in thinking that this is how a sadist must be?
And yes. He makes me glow. And from more than just my beaten ass.
Paul - love and lust. He is the sexiest man I have ever know. Ever.
Baby Girl -aw, thank you. You know you can completely disarm me by praising my wiring. But the truth is that at a certain point my words become inadequate... what he gives me...
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