Freewriting
[Staple] [Penis] [Blowjob] [Murdered] [Vandalize] (with thanks to dilly)
The Eunuch
The Heavenly Emperor partook in a nightly staple of concubines, but only one truly captivated Ah Beng’s imagination. Mei Ling's long flowing hair and pearly white skin underscored the playful effervescence that titillated his sensibilities. This was especially so whenever she bent forward in Ah Beng’s direction, inadvertedly giving him a tantalising glimpse of the delicious peaks beneath her robe. And while he looked forward to such encounters with the Master’s youngest indulgence, her playful disposition made his own duties at the palace both easier and much more difficult to complete.
Ah Beng was a loyal servant. Yet the feelings he kept for Mei Ling surely went against the mandate of his position. As a child, he had been granted a life of opulent splendour in service of a benevolent Master. But as he grew, it became increasingly obvious that the price he paid was a manhood he never knew -- a castration of the very essence of his burgeoning virility.
Did he not yearn for Mei Ling’s affection nonetheless? Did he not long to be the subject of her sighs in the evenings, like the ones he overheard in his bed as his Master ravaged her wantonly and callously? His life of service had killed his capacity to enact such longings. But it had not murdered his ability for love. Mei Ling inspired the man that remained deep within him. But he knew that he would only be able to enact it in the creivices of his mind, where his angry love for her stood proud and strong.
Yes, Ah Beng could feel his desire well up inside of him. Obsessively, he thought of Mei, and fantasies of her skin filled his nights. His dreams were of images of her kneeling before the Master, the top of her head bobbing to and fro ... submissively, in servitude... as she blowed the Emperor’s majestic flute. How he wished that it was his flute her fingers caressed and lips engulfed! How he longed to see her eyes staring up at him, and on her cheeks and breast would rest the white culmination of his desperate love.
His love was a thirst that would never be quenched. In the mornings, he would wipe away the evidence of his milky awakening, never meaning to vandalize the silken sheets to which he had become entitled. Ah Beng kowtowed to the Emperor in a way that belied his illicit desires. Yet mornings always reminded him that Mei Ling was a dream from which he could never fully awaken. Androgeny was a crowing cock that heralded a love doomed by an absent penis, and a "blowjob" that he would never, ever be able to hear.
The Eunuch
The Heavenly Emperor partook in a nightly staple of concubines, but only one truly captivated Ah Beng’s imagination. Mei Ling's long flowing hair and pearly white skin underscored the playful effervescence that titillated his sensibilities. This was especially so whenever she bent forward in Ah Beng’s direction, inadvertedly giving him a tantalising glimpse of the delicious peaks beneath her robe. And while he looked forward to such encounters with the Master’s youngest indulgence, her playful disposition made his own duties at the palace both easier and much more difficult to complete.
Ah Beng was a loyal servant. Yet the feelings he kept for Mei Ling surely went against the mandate of his position. As a child, he had been granted a life of opulent splendour in service of a benevolent Master. But as he grew, it became increasingly obvious that the price he paid was a manhood he never knew -- a castration of the very essence of his burgeoning virility.
Did he not yearn for Mei Ling’s affection nonetheless? Did he not long to be the subject of her sighs in the evenings, like the ones he overheard in his bed as his Master ravaged her wantonly and callously? His life of service had killed his capacity to enact such longings. But it had not murdered his ability for love. Mei Ling inspired the man that remained deep within him. But he knew that he would only be able to enact it in the creivices of his mind, where his angry love for her stood proud and strong.
Yes, Ah Beng could feel his desire well up inside of him. Obsessively, he thought of Mei, and fantasies of her skin filled his nights. His dreams were of images of her kneeling before the Master, the top of her head bobbing to and fro ... submissively, in servitude... as she blowed the Emperor’s majestic flute. How he wished that it was his flute her fingers caressed and lips engulfed! How he longed to see her eyes staring up at him, and on her cheeks and breast would rest the white culmination of his desperate love.
His love was a thirst that would never be quenched. In the mornings, he would wipe away the evidence of his milky awakening, never meaning to vandalize the silken sheets to which he had become entitled. Ah Beng kowtowed to the Emperor in a way that belied his illicit desires. Yet mornings always reminded him that Mei Ling was a dream from which he could never fully awaken. Androgeny was a crowing cock that heralded a love doomed by an absent penis, and a "blowjob" that he would never, ever be able to hear.