Dear Master,
Ah, but you did not know I would write directly to you ... surprise.
I wonder if you get tired of this, of me. Of how much I want you. Especially, these days when my cunt is throbbing for your voice. Your thick hard cock. When my day is interrupted by thoughts of being your utterly depraved whore.
Do you tire of that? Of hearing it? Should I keep it to myself?
But, it is so delicious and terrible. That feeling of being utterly devoted to waiting until you say so. That delicious twitch in my cunt that is begging to be scratched. That terrible feeling of wondering what you are doing, and who you are doing it with. Of hoping that you spare me a thought ... or a dream.
The longing to be anything you want me to be. Wanting to beg, and plead. Needing that pat on the head for being a good girl.
Yes. Delicious + Terrible = Bliss.
With my love,
votre putain
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