The merry little maid, uneducated and confused in the ways of the heart and the body, accosted by the wicked little monk, overwhelmed with lust in his forced celibacy and opportune when tempted.
Part I:
The merry little maid, in holy confusion,
sends for a monk to help her make sense of her sinful thoughts.
On this sultry and languorous morning
oh good Father, I have sent for you, because
I would unconfuse my thoughts,
but I would not tamper with the holy laws.
Awakened, I feel so glorious
and yet, I know that something is amiss,
for when I see what’s hidden in the night
for when I see the youths and maidens kiss,
I feel a tingling sensation,
I tremble, and my very knees grow weak,
Until I shiver and convulse
and my chamber I am forced to seek.
And there, with trembling hands,
with cheeks aflame, in floods of tears,
I long for what I know not,
I toss with strangely mingled hopes and fears.
And, father, strange to say, throughout the lonely hours
throughout the bright of day and dark of night,
I dream of things that cannot be
for although my figure, as you see, is slight,
I dream the feel of endowed maidens
I dream I have a ripe, voluptuous form,
and beside me, endowed, maleness presence
and strong arms, 'round me, hold me close and warm.
Until in heat, my tingle turns a force,
until at last, at last, I blush to say,
my body feels so hot and glistening,
my very garments seem to melt away,
and drip from me, a fall to floor,
until, as nature clad me, there I stand,
a sight for hungry eyes beholden,
the willing victim to a wandering hand.
And in this exiting frame of mind
at these times, when I seem not alone,
I feel a presence all around me,
the form that holds me not like my own.
It has no flush in virgin skin
no swelling globes, here, such as these,
on top no bumps that perk right up
no sloping thighs nor rounded, dimpled knees,
or even velvet hill with canyon deep
and stranger still - pray, Father, pray dear, draw near,
for running sensitive fingers thus
the greatest difference seems to be - just - here.
Tell me if the Lord will send his wrath
dear Father, should I pray and fast, in pain?
Or is the Lord content with such
and should I sleep and dream those blissful dreams again?
For I am torn between my thoughts
it seems not sin and yet my mirror shows
a body that is flush with tension
a face where shame and deepest color glows.
I need to know if I am save
tell me, it is not wicked, Father, dear?
Will heaven find me long from now
as I find myself with new sensations, here?
Ah! Dear heaven! Ill fortune!
You burn and flush with fever too, it seems.
Are you, dear Father, as well, filled with mortal thoughts?
As well a victim, a prey to fitful dreams?
And once my thoughts hath runneth wild,
once I dreamed far more than I have told.
For I was so beset upon,
this handsome stranger once was overbold,
the stranger did things I can not word,
but I will show thee, father, if I may,
Just where he felt and where he touched,
just what was done. Oh Father, I could not but obey.
It was beyond the twilight setting,
the sun had set, the stars were in the sky,
I did not dream, nor did I sleep
and I was trembling, though I knew not why.
A gentle breeze caressed my silken gown
and here upon this couch, I lay, like this,
Unclad by blankets, just a pillow set
when on my lips I felt a burning kiss.
Should I show y.. -
Yes! That is like it! Just the very same!
Such silken touch my heart sped up,
my arms reached upward. I was not to blame
and embraced the stranger just like thus
for all my soul seemed hungering to feel
more of his brace, more of his touch
the strange delight that made my senses reel.
I feared in such a moment
it seemed so strange that pleasure should be pain
I feared my soul would so be damned
and yet I fain would suffer, once again.
It soared through me, thoughts, pleasure,
't was thus - and so - and ever did I strain
to embrace the touch that brought this turmoil,
to meet, half way, the source of all my pain.
My thoughts became so incoherent
my voice came, fitful - broken - just as now -
‘T was as though I had no control
I was not mistress of myself, I vow! -
I just held on, oh let me show you Father
I clasped the spirit visitor like this -
and then he closed on me like a cocoon
through all my veins, I felt his maddening kiss
his hand explored my skin all over
my pulse went wild - I knew not what was done -
when finger - was it? - touched and slipped in
and - OH - goodness gracious! ***
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Part II:
The wicked little monk, celibate but lustful,
gets a summon from a maid to help her with her sinful thoughts.
It is a sultry and languorous morning
as I am send for to service in faith
to unconfuse a would-be sin
and see if scripture will tolerate.
My eyes behold a simple maid
but beauty as beholden
and though my sense is celibate
my body starts unfolding.
The maid is set upon and ravished so
with sinful thoughts amiss
but whereas she seeks redemption
I seek the sinful kiss.
She describes her flush sensations
as I feel my will grow weak
she shivers so inviting
her closeness I now seek.
I take her trembling hands
in mine, I wipe her tears
I long for what I know not,
with mingled hopes and fears.
Her silken gown so hugs her
her figure slight but fine
as she regales her dreams
and shows me all the lines.
A blush, a flush, a glisten sweat
as she tells me of the form
that ravishes her, as I just would
by quickening her storm.
She shows me of the spirit touch
I follow, fingers flush
sensations indescribable
as I caress her thus.
Oh Lord, will I be punished?
Should I repent and pray?
Or are you fine with such
the thoughts of mine that may?
She touches me, and wonders in dismay
why I burn with fever just like she?
Am I filled with mortal thoughts?
Like her a victim, a prey to fitful dreams?
She confesses thoughts hath runneth wild,
and dreamed more than she told.
Regales how she was set upon,
by a stranger overbold.
A stranger doing things unsaid,
but she shows me hands a lay,
where he her felt, I her touch.
I’m done for. I no longer faith obey.
Unclad almost, she shows
her spirit lingering lips
I lost, cannot restrain myself
and burn her with my kiss.
A silken touch, her heart speeds up,
for mine it does the same.
Arms reach, lock in embrace
and senses go insane.
Fear of damnation
in this pleasure, in this pain
yet I’ll be damned so gladly
for this I’ll suffer all again.
Out of control, thoughts runneth wild
she stutters in her bliss
holds me tight, so warm
so mad, as she returns the kiss.
I explore her skin all over
her gown rolled up and gone
my fingers, my tongue, my so much more
are vying to get it done.
Something hard and something soft
connect and shiver and flush
and - OH - goodness gracious! ***
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09.03.2018 © Daniel L. Raven [Count Daniël Luchies]