Dear Sir

In the dark, I yearn for you. I lay quietly, my eyes closed and imagine your hands upon me. You are stern and forbidding. Your rich, deep voice resonates through me as you issue your commands.

I can do nothing but follow. I am yours in all ways. I want to please you and pleasure you. I want to wallow in my servitude as yours. Your servant. Your slut. Your slave.

Despite my solitude, I receive your words as gospel.

You will take me. I know that. You have laid out the rules and have explained what will happen. You will abuse me with your most exquisite torments and gain pleasure from my whimpers and my cries. You will urge me to take your attentions and I will do so because I yearn for nothing more than to spread myself, prostrate, naked and wanting, before you.

I know what is to come. I have feared it. I have craved it.

I will bring the instruments of my carnal torments when I bring myself to you. You will lay them out and require that I choose. Shall I ask for the sharp, biting pain of the wicked flogger? Or the flat solid fire or your paddle? The paddle that you have lovingly created with your own hands, the better to train me with. Perhaps the split cane that will sting and burn as you wield it upon my willing flesh?

How will you feel, Master, as I bow beneath your strokes? As my body accepts your powerful mastery? As my flesh grows hot, sparkling with pain, beneath your ministrations?

I yearn for you. I long for the moment at which you will demand that I assume my submissive pose at your feet. The better, Master, to accept your next commands. The orders that I take your cock into my mouth. That I pleasure you with my skills as your cocksucker. That I accept your cum upon my lips as the most reverent of fluids. This will be my reward for having accepted, no, relished, your punishments.

What will be your pleasure, Master?

How may I serve you?

I await the moment of glory during which I will become your flesh, your body, your slave, your soul to command.