Take a map. Unfold it completely. Lay it out on a flat surface; a big, inviting bed is perfect, flattening the cloud of a white, Egyptian-cotton duvet. Find the hidden folds. Open it again... Yes, again. Can you see the one in this map? This is where we find the secret places, the theatres of imagination where we meet, to act out our play.

I cast the map to one side and lay your body on the bed, I open you out, I find secret folds and part them with my tongue. You're already wet. I flatten my tongue to your sweet, pouting cunt, and I lap. Your breathy sighs, accompanied by birdsong, form a soundtrack to the start of our third day.

I have brought you here, to this favourite place; this castle, for three days of our private selves, to lay delicious, sensual siege to your body and your mind. Yesterday I broke you to my will. Before I relinquish you at the end of this day I want to give all of me to you, taking all of you in return.

I don't let you climax at this time, this moment. I stand, looking down upon you; naked, aching. Your cunt is wet from my lapping and your juices smeared by my tongue; your cunt glistening. She aches for me. My cock is hard, aching for you. Pre- oozes, nectar glistens on your thighs, our bodies ready for more fucking. I want you and I need you. We know we have very little time left, and we do not know when this chance will come our way again, but I am patient. Today will be all about display, secrets hidden no longer; you and I revealed, at least to our small audience. Someone must know you belong to me.

"Make me come," you beseech, looking up at me, puzzled, your red lips pout, your soft brown eyes gleaming in muted light.

Even after our excesses of the previous two days you want more. I'm tempted to give in to both our needs. I must have you again and again before forced separation drives me to distraction, but not yet. My plans deny you for just this moment. Later you will shatter the castle walls with your orgasmic moans.

"Be patient, darling, anticipate, as I will. Get dressed."

I have put what I want you to wear on the bed. I help you on with the corset, my favourite; black, trimmed with burgundy ribbons. We both want you constricted, breathless, heady with a reduced capacity to gather oxygen. It will keep you constantly high as we fuck, later. I tie the laces tight, I listen to your excited breathing becoming shallow, rapid, like a bird. In the mirror, I see the tell-tale glisten of a bead of your nectar trickling down the inside of your thigh.

"Master, it's tight," you say.

True, your waist is cinched in tighter than your already slim form; your hips flare, your delicious, rounded bottom swells invitingly. I press my erection between the pale, marked cheeks of your bottom, leaving traces of pre-cum in the crevice. The urge to impale you on my erection is difficult to overcome. I step back and admire the seven, evenly placed welts across your buttocks. Welts I put there yesterday.