I remember it a labyrinth. Walls of unreachable golden ceilings, dead ends of mirrors vast as palaces, and the path I walked on bore the mysterious alchemy of the alphabet. A whole world of soft silk, crackled paper and grand old walnut, inhabited by us and a few mice. I studied. She taught. The mice shuffled by with silent little steps, bringing more ink and cocoa.At first I thought my learning had a goal. That the words she taught me how to craft were naught but tools. And like owning the hammer always makes a carpenter, her words would make me some sort of a good man. One day amongst many, the young lady made me read an ancient myth that struck my fancy. I decided that day that I was Theseus, and ignorance was my maze. The lady was Ariane, threading a wire of letters.At this, I was doing splendidly. My reading had become much better, and I was even starting to show some small incline to literary promise. But on one cold winter day, as I was supposed to write a sonnet in the manner. Blow after blow land and I think at some point my body closed off with the shock. Counting in my head as the twelfth strike lands my rigid body caves into the vaulting horse and a low guttural sound escapes from me. Then you are there in front of my, untying the leash and working the cane out from my clenched teeth. All I can hear are your soft, soothing words telling me what a good girl I am. How proud you are at how brave I was. You help me stand on my shaking legs and support me as we walk to the big chair in the corner of the room. I watch as you undo your clothes and let your trousers drop to the floor. Your cock is harder than I’ve ever seen it and as you settle down you pull me onto your lap. Holding my head on your shoulder you begin to rock me, your shaft buried deep in my hungry pussy. I’m so exhausted all I can do is rise and fall slowly against you, feeling your thumb rhythmically stroking my clit. I’ve been thinking of this moment all day. Of having you inside me, of.
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