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6/27/2025, 9:29:04 PM
>>212178997
I dream of owning you. Sometimes I close my eyes and imagine myself as a stern but fair British officer stationed in Calcutta in 1893. The sun is cruel, but I endure it, for the Empire. The heat clings to my uniform, the sun glints off my polished boots. I look out over the veranda and see her. My ayah. She kneels beside me, offering cool rosewater in a brass cup with trembling hands, eyes downcast, “drink, sahib,” she whispers, her bangles jingling softly. Our fingers touch. Forbidden thoughts rise. I lift her chin gently. “You’re not just my servant, you’re my responsibility.” She blushes. I unbutton my uniform. The monsoon rains begin to fall. We make love under the Union Jack. I whisper colonial policies into her ear between gasps and take her like a proper gentleman would.
I dream of owning you. Sometimes I close my eyes and imagine myself as a stern but fair British officer stationed in Calcutta in 1893. The sun is cruel, but I endure it, for the Empire. The heat clings to my uniform, the sun glints off my polished boots. I look out over the veranda and see her. My ayah. She kneels beside me, offering cool rosewater in a brass cup with trembling hands, eyes downcast, “drink, sahib,” she whispers, her bangles jingling softly. Our fingers touch. Forbidden thoughts rise. I lift her chin gently. “You’re not just my servant, you’re my responsibility.” She blushes. I unbutton my uniform. The monsoon rains begin to fall. We make love under the Union Jack. I whisper colonial policies into her ear between gasps and take her like a proper gentleman would.
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