love letter | |
Dear Angela:
Moaning.
Longing.
Aching.
Throbbing.
Wanting.
Gasping.
I know every night that I will always be yours.
Whatever my curiosity, whatever my own wants, I will always be yours.
Whether you say yes, whether you say no, I will always be yours.
I am conquered and the vanquished have no claims on the victor. Mark me and banish me. Mark me and keep me. Mark me and anything. Mark me, because the reality is that I am forever yours no matter what.
Yours,
Always yours,
Mr. Chastity
… … … … … … …
Isn’t he a good boy?
Or maybe I’ll let him have an orgasm. Then, afterward, measure his ardency to see if he still merits good boy status.
Dearest Angela. You know, I know, and everybody knows that you are showered with such missives.
What you know, but the rest of us don’t, is how do you do it? How do you mesmerize and enchant? Why do men fall at your feet? What is the secret of your seemingly effortless ability, your fem fatale magnetism?
As for myself? I just randomly found your blog and have been smitten ever since. I have no idea how you do it. I’m just glad I found you.
Mr. C is lucky to be vanquished and even luckier to be in your “good boy” status. I am sure his ardent devotion will not flag.
Aww. The poor guy! Give him a break. Let him blow one, sure. But let him get a nap, before you test him. If I know you and your *certain* charms, he’ll be raring to go again.
Exquisite denial by the architect of the cock leash law is what we crave in our Angela-centric world. Well stated, Mr. Chastity.