knecht

i don't think i know the answer to your riddle . . .

She looks to your voyeuristic eyes as they emerge from behind the purdah. Her pale partially clothed body lay upon a bed of finest silk, the color of rich mahogany. From underneath coils of raven locks her angelic features emerge. Full lips of crimson contrasting to the alabaster skin tone, her delicate jaw giving way to her slender neck from which the quoted sound of sensuality slips.

"I am over-run, jungled in my bed, I am infested with a menagerie of desires: my heart is eaten by a dove, a cat scrambles in the cave of my sex, hounds in my bed obey a whipmaster who cries nothing but havoc as the hours test my endurance with an accumulation of tortures. Who, if I cried, would hear me among the angelic orders?"