I’m writing to you from my dressing room. It’s cold here, my old bones are feeling the suffocating cold that winter brings. All I can seem to think about is being at home at our room, our place of safety. Do you think about me being with you while looking at the door of our playroom? Do you think about the moments of lack of self control? When your papa strips you bare and leaves you red from the pleasure placed upon your beautiful behind during your bratty moments. You are always so good for your Papa, even when you don’t want to be and amore I care for you dearly.
Home is only a few weeks away, and with that being said you are only a few weeks away. I hope you are being a good girl and abstaining yourself from pleasure and keeping yourself for me, as I asked or you know there will be trouble if I find one ounce of your sweet nectar has left your body without me being the cause. I can’t wait to tie you up and see how long you can last, I bet it’s mere seconds before you are crumbling at my touch. Your Papa is going to love making you scream for him, those sweet sounds haunt me when we are apart mi amore. Your cries of pain, of our love. You are the missing part of me. The piece that I didn’t know this old man needed.
My Valentines gift to you - Mr World Wide, Mr Secondo Emeritus, Papa Emeritus II - My first full portrait painting of a papa - the mitre drove me insane. I hope you guys like it <3
