The castle corridors echo with a peculiar silence tonight. Not the comforting quiet of solitude, but the heavy stillness that follows... satisfaction. My fingers still carry the scent of him - that intoxicating blend of sweat, leather, and submission. How delightful when a man understands his proper place: on his knees, worshiping what towers above him.

There's something profoundly erotic about reducing a strong man to trembling obedience. Watching those powerful hands shake as they undo my dress, hearing that deep voice break into pleading whispers... it stirs something primal within me. The way my thighs still ache from where he gripped them, the marks his teeth left on my inner thighs... such delicious souvenirs.

Perhaps I'll summon him again tomorrow. A woman of my stature deserves consistent devotion, after all.