Sir,
It is a sleepless night the air although it is inky dark blows hot like dragon's breath and I find myself still thinking of you all those miles away. Wondering indeed if you will really come here to see me in my place so different in every way from your own.
I look at your parent's house and I can plainly see we are indeed from two worlds apart, still it is interesting you and your civilized ways, ways I cannot really begin to understand. Your motivations and goals so different from my own, yes indeed I see I am a simple uncluttered soul and my guess is I always will be.
I hope you keep finding me interesting and amusing Sir, for this hard, simple slave ever hopes you will treasure him, yes he does. Well I have another story brewing and as it is too hot too sleep here goes..........
I can hear the rumble of traffic, always the endless traffic and I feel bereft and depressed, the captive wild thing fretting for the open spaces, longing to run free. I lay in the land of half sleep, curled up in my cage, beneath a rough woolen blanket whose feel I love against my naked skin, the steel edges of my collar digging into my neck. It is there always for you never take it off, the constant reminder of my badge of office while I am in your home. The reminder of what I am to you, and at this moment I am finding it very hard, harder in fact than I had dreamed I ever would to accept being your slave, and live the way you do.
I have fought you fiercely at each and every turn, and often suffered painfully for my defiance. I have bitten you, at times I spit and swear, often I am surly and uncooperative. Still I shy away from your advances, I can sense at times this annoys you greatly, but still you use me regardless of my attitude. You can see my simmering resentment, part of you laughs and does not care, yet there is a part of you that does care and wants desperately to get through to me. Yet you cannot, and it leads you to frustration.
At long last you have let me taste the razor whip, it had cut me up bad, in many places and deeply with its jagged steel caress. And like a wounded animal I have retreated to the dark of the basement and to my cage to heal, to lick my wounds, and I have not shifted for many days. You stitched me up yourself and cleaned and bandaged my hurts, as usual I refused to go to the Doctor so you did the job yourself. You are worried at my silence I have not spoken to you since that day, and I have eaten very little.
So I lay now half listening to the noises of the city, fretting for the wild places I have left behind. I know I will not see them again, and I feel sick with sadness at the fact. I have tried to escape, I have tried to run, right now all I can think of is the desire to get away. It is all encompassing I can focus on nothing else, the city and its walls and confines are really starting to break my spirit and get me down.
It is dark, I presume that you have long gone to your bed, yet in this place it is always light I hate that too. I am finding there is a lot I hate about the city and it is making me nasty, and intractable, and you have noticed. As shit house as I feel at this moment I have decided it is time I got away, and as cunning as I am I have been busy preparing for my escape.