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Mistress Sabrina Winter
My Journal

Love

Darling, Darling Sabrina,

I can't sleep even though I am exhausted and it is very early in the morning YOUR time.

I can't stop loving YOU, worshipping YOU in my mind and with a shirt in my desperate hands, loving every image of YOU on my laptop over and over and over and every other image of YOU in my imagination. I can't stop.

YOU are wearing an elegant white silk Chanel suit with a tight-waisted jacket and a short, tight perfectly coutoured skirt that profiles and reprofiles and reprofiles again and again YOUR glorious thighs and little perfect bottom with every slight movement YOU make, and heart-stopping silk fishnets which scream to be caressed and glistening 5-inch Louboutin black patent leather little pumps.

YOU are wearing the most fabulous dark, impossibly tight corset and killer fuck-ME stilettos; YOUR soft, soft melon-breasts are moving languorously with YOUR beautiful body, sweetly threatening to burst through; YOUR lovely hands... those nails... those teasing nails... are ever so gently touching the tiniest pink thong that tries to hide but only ravishingly accentuates YOUR divine crotch and YOUR completely maddening, teasingly perfect, little bottom, now touching YOUR crotch, now grazing YOUR derriere, now - as YOU bend over - slowly, slowly but almost nonchalantly pleasuring Paradise.

YOU are wearing those tight, impossibly tight jeans YOU found in Paris. YOU are striding out to have fun, to madden every married man in the mall who just wants to leave his wife for ever at that moment and to follow YOUR jiggling little ass-globes like a silly, totally adoring, totally mindless little doggy with an unlimited credit card which has just now become absolutely YOURS. The left globe of YOUR jeans has a little message in high relief gold letters 'You', the right globe reads 'Love' and the centre shouts 'ME'. YOUR high platform booties emphasize confidently with YOUR every step the curves and movements of YOUR legs and YOUR thighs and YOUR sinfully teasing little bum; the wrinkles of the denim form and smooth and form and smooth round YOUR little maddening crotch; YOUR fabulously wild jungle hair blazes with sexual fury. YOU are the essence of uncontainable erotic power and YOU are loving this, loving, loving, loving this, relishing YOUR power, smiling and laughing out loud..crowds of men are now forming behind YOU.

YOU are wearing the PVC black gleaming raincoat that YOU like, cut to the length that showcases the beautiful moving Michael Angelescue muscles of YOUR astonishingly glorious legs in their perfectly seamed fishnets. YOUR pet trots along humbly and obediently beside YOU. YOU haven't told him what YOU are wearing underneath YOUR raincoat. 'That's why you have that sexy little imagination, MY pet.' 'Oh, is it the teeny little schoolgirl micro skirt that shows my GODDESS' bottom partly and then completely at every step and then flutters teasingly over it again, but that YOU make me to strain like crazy to see the colour of the teeny thong that barely threads the most thrilling ass-crack in the universe? Or oh, is it the most fabulous of all YOUR creations, that vision of YOU looking into an 18th century gilt-framed half-length mirror, smiling at YOUR own lovely face, but not letting YOUR worshippers see that heavenly reflection, wearing just those black platform booties with their kinky straps and that teeny black thong and those semi-nude fishnets that showcase the spurt-provoking control-destroying magic of YOUR tiny jutting rear?'

YOU are serious, touching YOUR little pet's face with one teasing nail as he begs, begs, begs YOU to marry him....YOU smile... his heart tightens and lurches drunkenly...

I hear YOUR lovely sexy low voice murmuring. So quiet, so calm, so commanding.

(As YOU know I play that little voice message on YOUR website again and again and again in my solitary, yearning, loving desperation.)

Now YOU are whispering 'I own you, I own you, I own you...'

'You are MINE, MINE, MINE, totally and absolutely MINE.'

'YOUR soul is MINE, your heart, your whole body, your cock. MINE.'

'You can never belong to anyone or anything other than to ME. Never. Ever. Not ever...'

'You feverishly, crazily love, love, love being MY slave, MY helpless little pet.'

'You can never get enough of this total sweet, sweet, wallowing surrender to ME, happily and desperately transferring to ME all your power, all your choices, all your sovereign independence as a separate human being, all your talent and energy, all your uniqueness, all your ability to love, to desire, to need, to fear, to worship in unstoppable orgiastic frenzy, to adore in absolute prostrate humility.'

'Sometimes for MY amusement' - YOUR voice gurgles gently with tinkles of fun - 'I pretend to release you, to let you scamper away like a silly baby puppy, like a tiny butterfly struggling almost helplessly from its chrysalis, but inside the deepest foundations of your unconsciousness (which I also own and control - I took possession of your conscious and unconscious minds from that very first moment when you entered MY presence and unconsciously gave yourself totally to ME) you know that I am holding those silken reins that you love ME holding, those reins that govern your life. And you know in the depths and core of your being that, when you are utterly lost and in lonely despair, I will almost imperceptibly tug sweetly on those reins and that you will come racing back to ME, your OWNER, panting, weeping, suicidal, desperate, empty. And that I will then sweetly save your life.'

slave m