If I do exactly as you desire, will you let me be? If I bend myself backward to do as you would, will you finally cease the torture? If I crumple myself in totality such that my withering spine gives way completely, will you at last feel sated?
How can I serve you today, my lord? What subhuman servile task can I perform for you today?
I've licked the dust off my own feet and yours, I've kissed the ground with the length of my body, I've given myself up totally to the infliction of pain by your honourable self. When will you finally release me?
I've let the blood soak my limbs and felt it trickle into the very crevices that make me the fragile human being I am, I've tasted the saltiness of the fluids that seep out of me and have lost the strength to wipe them away. I no longer own dignity, my lord; I know that makes you glad.
But, my lord, my body is not as young as it used to be, to withstand the continuous tribulation. I hear my lungs rasping now with each new unbearable agony I undergo. But I know my lord is still not happy and my lord would still like to hear my agonising screams over and over again.
Then continue to cause me to suffer, my lord, until you are well pleased. Crush me underfoot till my cries no longer resound in your empty halls. Go on and on with your most horrorsome torments until my spirit too ebbs away and dies and all that is left is the voiceless, lifeless emptiness that is much like that which exists within your own self.
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