Triumphant Return

This is the story of a certain duchess. We may call her Duchess of Yolk for she was married to the supreme ruler of Yolk county. Her happiness was suddenly interrupted by the death of her beloved husband from a simple case of chicken-pox. She cried and mourned with her people for days until she no longer had any tear to drop. On the hundredth day, she decided to stop mourning and planned to continue with her life.

A good amount of fresh air would do, she thought before stepping out. Into a maze of formal gardens she went at the back of her lavish mansion. Before long, she was lost in a labyrinth of manicured trails of boxwoods. She was afraid for the first time in her loneliness. She then panicked and screamed her lungs out. Running frantically she drained her energy and her hopes until someone came to her rescue.

“Milady, are you all right?”

“I suppose I was lost…” she replied.

“Let me help you get out of here Maam…”

The gardener was strong and handsome. His hair was dark-colored, with added sideburns to enhance his masculinity. And on the faithful day, he had to wear nothing but an old suede working pants which was wrapped tightly onto his hardened legs and back muscles. Soft lines of furs blazed along his well-formed chest. Her eyes flipped incessantly with awe and lust.

She was a lady, she reminded herself. There was no way she should entertain garish ideas and infatuations with this gardener.

All of the sudden, the rain fell from the heavens above. His body was drawn to her in order to protect her with little that he could offer. His masculine musk entered her in very seductive way. She couldn’t hold it any longer. She remembered her old days, when she was just no more than a prostitute working in a hunger-stricken district of filthy London. Then one particular duke saved her from her wretched destiny. She sometimes missed the anonymities, she missed all the wild passionate encounters. There she was in heat again. And there she was with this person, only a commoner, a gardener, a very handsome one nevertheless.

Her seduction was still at work. It didn’t take much time for her to invoke the young gardener. And when she succeeded, he withdrew.

“Why, young man? Why?”

“I can’t Milady… you let go a sigh of pain when I strived to enter your heavenly gate. I am afraid I might hurt Milady…”

“No, trust me I am fine…”

“I can’t Milady, I am sorry…” Then he went flaccid on her.

For he who failed to plant any peck on her cheeks, on her full-lips, on her voluptuous flesh. For he who failed to seduce her in her own heat. For he who did nothing to prepare her for the voyage beyond, sorry was a good choice of word indeed. How could he half-expected she would open her pleasure garden if one forgot to knock gently on the gate?

That same night she couldn’t sleep and she could not stop thinking. How could a person who used to enjoy men in insatiable lust in her past life could not cope with the gardener’s ordinary tool of work? Was she getting old? Did she need to be in love to enjoy intimacy? Couldn’t she take pleasure of nameless faces like the old days? What was wrong with her? Had she loose it? Had she loose her sense of pleasure?

And then she remembered her past companion whenever she was struck by loneliness. There she searched for a special leather crafted box, in which she called her magic-box. Within laid a certain wooden-apparatus in the shape of a male genitalia. Her trusted friend, and her always available companion in need, in which she christened as Dill.

A warning appeared in her head for her friends always discourage her to never exercise Dill other than in any emergency situation. Today she was disappointed by herself of her incapability to satisfy a man of her choice. Then emergency it was, she decided.

She was so enraged by the uneventful encounter with the gardener that she seduced herself while laying in position for the preparation for another lovely night with the long-time-forgotten Dill.

Ever so gently she pushed and she pulled. Her heartbeats were rising high. With every pull she inserted Dill into herself with a more powerful thrust. She flipped and she twisted. She yelled and she screamed. She then came with vengeance.

She was surprised how an un-seemingly important Dill could ever change her life when she needed a moral-boost.

At her wake the next day, she felt like she was born as a new person, as a new lady.

A lady who was still passionate about her sensual being.
A lady who was ensured that her charm hadn’t fade away
A lady who was no longer afraid of anything
A lady who could still take over the world

A lady who was still in charge and in control.

As she put on her luxurious gown and strolled along the courts, she steadied her head and walked in triumphant return:
“Tomorrow is another day, another mountain to climb and conquer”.