Dear Master

Dear Master,

I am here, in my bed, writing you this way because I know you'll see it, and I know you like seeing and reading my words in this way, on my blog. I am writing you in this way because it is public, and I am not with you, and I wish to write you a letter. 

I wish I could run my fingers along your skin, stealing your strength and hearing your body. I cannot throw myself at you, as I wish to do now, locking my fingers behind your neck and rolling my body against you, letting my arousal for you - which burns in me daily - escape into you, my body trembling and long pent up sighs for your ears only, hot breathes close to your face and my tongue, as wet as between my legs, searching your ear - no words, just pure honest want- No, need! Need of you of your hands- God help me, your hands. The thought of that smooth voice, I hear it: slut. And my head pulled back by my hair - indeed I needed it to release my scalp of that tension (thankyou thankyou!) - Your hand on my neck and, oh I can't even speak - and my knees, they're buckling I can't stand any longer, would you let me to kneel? To take you in my mouth (my mouth salivates, my throat has tension to rid of, too!) or would you find a wall to shove me into by my throat, would you put your fingers in me and deny me a moan, would you? 

I want every part of me to know you, feel you, love you, scream with you. My body is aching for your dick, your voice, hands, crop. I writhe with the thought of pleasing you, and, truely pain - ah, pain. 

How I wait to be granted that white wash of agony dealt by your hand, to finally know how it feels to be whipped, to escape into you, into myself, pure, to feel my body screaming in every possible way - fire in my sex, fire on my skin, released through my throat, through my tears, my blood and seeping down my legs. 

Oh! What cruilty to wait one more minute to see you, Master. I feel I might die of want and longing. My collar, it seers me, I feel like a crazed dog - bitch indeed! - thrashing on a leash tied to some distant place from her owner, gone mad to be near and loved and pleasing, beautiful, obedient, unquestioning! The only live she wants - truly, I want. Ah, my heart burns! Do  you love me, Master? Every day I feel your grip get tighter, or mine, like a death grip. And one day I'll be unquestioning, whole. 

I dream of kneeling at your feet, adoration proven in every way I can, of your mouth I'd love to kiss, to breathe your breath, to love your love. I am mad, Master! The crazed bitch of pure adoration and slut of your desires and girl of your heart and slave of your every want. I am yours, Master, and I wait for you to take me, all of me. Am I in love? have I lost my mind? Indeed, lost it happily, as everything else that once belonged to me, lost in this swimming freedom of confinement, this bound and blissful torment. 

Forever,       

your girl