The Training School - chapter 2

Nicholas opened the door to the study. He left her suitcase outside the door. There were some lovely landscapes on the walls, a large oak desk and some comfortable upholstered chairs. Although there was complete order in what she saw Lucille’s first impression was one of comfort and old wealth. The carpet may have been showing signs of age, yet it looked perfectly at home in this room.

“Please have a seat,” Nicholas offered as he gestured towards a small group of chairs. Two chairs were upholstered in a crème linen and two in an olive green leather, positioned around a coffee table at one end of the room; the opposite end of the room to his desk with two straight back chairs in front of it.

Lucille sat down in one of the leather covered chairs.

“May I offer you a drink? We will be having lunch shortly but perhaps a mineral water?”

He went to the phone on his desk, an old fashioned one where you picked up the receiver and pressed a button on the phone and he asked someone on the other end for two mineral waters to be brought to the study.

Although he hadn’t waited for her response, she thought it best to act as if he had.

“Thank you...Nicholas. I’m sorry. William has only referred to you by your first name.”

“Does that make you uncomfortable?”

“Well, I call William, William, unless of course the situation calls for some more formality, when I may call him Sir, if that feels right.”

Nicholas considered that and silence hung between them for a few seconds.

“You mean, when you are being corrected?”

The use of the word gave Lucille a little buzz. She was a little embarrassed and surprised at his directness. She smiled, although she didn’t mean to.

“Yes. Then.”

Lucille watched Nicholas closely and she enjoyed watching him as his mind seemed to be turning things over; considering what Lucille said. Although a good ten years older than her, he still had a youthful air about him; a full head of thick brown hair, watery blue/green eyes that seemed to watch her like a hawk and a lean but well muscled physique. She thought him ruggedly handsome.

Yet, Lucille suspected that underneath that old world charm of his was a determination to have his way at any cost. It was something about the sense of order here and the way he carried himself. Although he was dressed casually, as if he had been doing physical work earlier, he looked very clean and put together. There was an aura of restraint and control that left Lucille feeling that she best not tangle with him, or be frivolous. When he spoke again it startled her. She had been lost in her thoughts.

“There are three other girls here at this time, beside you. One girl will be arriving shortly but two other girls have been here for almost a week now. They call me ‘Sir’ at all times.”

“I see. Should I address you in that way too...at all times?”

“Yes, that is how you should address me.”

“Yes. Yes, Sir.”

“For now, I shall call you Lucille but that will alter at the appropriate time.”

She did not understand but she nodded as if she did.

The door opened and a refined looking country woman brought in a tray on which was two glasses of mineral water and ice. Nicholas introduced her as “Mrs McNeice, the wonderful woman who provides us with such very fine food”. She cheerily offered a glass to Lucille and then to Nicholas and left the room.

Lucile was pleased to have something in her hands, something to do with her hands. She could feel him watching her, every move she made. She became aware of her nervousness when she brought the glass to her lips and it felt heavy to her and she almost feared that she would spill some. Then, Nicholas asked if she had any questions.

“Well, yes, I do. I have so many questions. I mean, this was all so sudden and I am not entirely sure why I am here or even what to expect.”

“Don’t worry yourself. It will all become evident in good time. It is of no real value for us to talk too much in detail right now. It is best that you experience change rather than talk about it.”

Lucille remained unenlightened. Perhaps a direct question this time...

“Will I meet the other girls soon?”

“Oh yes. Two of them will be at lunch. The other girl, Susan, will arrive this afternoon. I like to have four girls here at a time. I don’t like larger groups than that. Four girls is a good number. They are all in a relatively similar place to you. They are all submissives but with a great deal to learn.”

Lucille took this to mean that she had a great deal to learn. She thought this rather unfair of him since she felt she already knew a lot, but she stayed quiet about it.

“You will all sleep in the same room. We have various daily protocols and it suits the staff and me to manage all girls in the one place. There is a large bathroom off the bed room and I think you will find the bed comfortable.”

Daily protocols? What on earth did that mean? She dared not ask him for fear of his answer – no doubt another statement that would mean nothing to her. She made an effort to lighten the mood as she might with strangers at a party and as well, to provide him with the required sense of formality that he had said he wanted. She giggled a little, somewhat nervously.

“Well, Sir, I doubt I have all that much to wear. William packed for me and heaven knows what he has put in the suitcase, but he did mention that there was a ...dress code here. Are you able to give me some details about that?”

“Oh. He didn’t tell you. Certainly. Our girls here are given suitable clothing to wear. I like all my girls to wear the same sort of thing and the sort of dress that is appropriate for their status and the tasks at hand and the lessons they need to learn. We are aware of your measurements and the size you wear and your clothing has been prepared.

Since the summer is well and truly here now you will mostly wear a cotton dress of dark colour which takes notes of your shape but allows for easy access to you. These dresses will be found hanging in the cupboard next to your bed. There are some activities and tasks that require other clothing be worn. You will find what you need in the dresser and cupboard by your bed. I’m sure William has packed you some brassieres but he will not have packed you any panties. They are not suitable here and he was asked to leave them at home.”

Lucille hoped that her surprise was not registered on her face. Was this really happening to her? Easy access to her? This had to be a dream. She folded one hand in the other and discreetly pinched her skin on one wrist hard. It hurt. No, this was not a dream. Her mind tried to recall exactly what he had said about panties. Although William would sometimes tell her not to wear panties, for the day at home or when they went out to a dinner, she usually did wear them and the thought of not wearing a pair at all whilst she was here was a deeply challenging thought. She wanted to reply to this, to tell him that she would not do that but she fought with her inner turmoil, wrestled it down and simply said, “I see.”

“Girls sleep naked but I like to give girls a reward when they do good work and a pretty negligee is one such reward you may earn. You are welcome to wear a little jewellery of your own choice at most times so long as it is discreet and of good taste. No watches. I asked William to pack some suitable shoes and sandals, all with a heel... and some runners, too. Yes, you will need those. The contents of your suitcase will be unpacked in your area of the bedroom whilst we lunch.”

It was at that moment that Lucille heard the chiming of a gong and Nicholas advised her that this meant that luncheon was served. He stood up and invited her to do so too. He led her towards the dining room, a lovely room with high ceilings and a picture window that looked out to a charming garden with roses and lots of well established camellias. The table was set for four people today but could accommodate eight people easily. When they arrived two girls were already standing behind their chairs, the chairs closest to the window.

“Lucille, allow me to introduce Pammi and Sherri. Pammi, Sherri, this is our new girl, Lucille.”

“Hello,” Lucille said, smiling, hoping to make a good first impression. "I am pleased to meet you.”

They smiled back at her and greeted her. They seemed happy enough.

“Girls, show Lucille how to sit down properly please. Lucille come around here and observe them carefully.”

In unison, Pammi and Sherri (what odd names, she thought) lifted the skirts of their dresses at the back, all the way to their waists to reveal bare bottoms. Using both their hands they parted their cheeks and they then sat down very purposefully and elegantly. Their move was so discreet and done with such assurance that Lucille wondered if her eyes had deceived her. Dear God. They surely did not expect...?

“Now go to that chair, Lucille.”

In shock, she moved to the chair he had indicated.

“Are you wearing panties?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Take them off and give them to me.”

“Here? Now?”

She was getting cross.

“Take them off”.

They were all watching her. She slid her hands up to the waist of her panties and pulled them down. She handed them to Nicholas in a tight ball and he put them in the pocket of his jacket.

“Now, sit down just as the girls did.”

“But...I can’t. I just can’t do that,” she said, totally panicked.

“First lesson, Lucille. Never tell me you can’t do something. If I say that you can do it, then you can do it.”

“But, it is so embarrassing. I...I can’t.”

She put her hands over her face. This was too awful. How could William do this to her!

Nicholas seemed unmoved. His voice was implacable. He offered her no reprieve.

“Lucille, look at me.”

She took her hands away from her face and looked directly at him. She knew to do that much.

“There is nothing the slightest bit difficult about what you have been asked to do. Simply follow the directive you have been given. Raise your skirt.”

She kept looking at him but she remained frozen.

His voice rose. “Do it!”

There was no way out. She raised her skirt as the other girls had.

“Now, simply place your hands on your lower buttocks and part your cheeks and sit down.”

She wanted to die. She closed her eyes and did as instructed, but it was rather clumsily executed and her facial cheeks were now bright red.

“Good girl. We shall teach you how to do this discreetly. It is an art form and you must not worry about it. It was a good first effort. Now let’s enjoy our lunch.”

Her suspicions about him were right. It was clear to her now that Nicholas was a man who would brook no disobedience from her. His charm and manners belied his true nature. She now saw him as the disciplinarian that he clearly was. It was an affront to her sensibilities and yet she could not deny that her stomach was swirling in extraordinary ways. She was very wet and more aroused than she had known it was possible to be.

Dollied up

Cindi tinki, n udder dolliz agree, dat in eberi gurl der actually a dolli hiding deeeep insyd. If a gurl wan her dolli 2 cum owt, eben 4 jus a little bit of time, one wey 2 reech da dolli deep insyd - 2 pley dress ups.

Letz sey cindi goin owt 4 dinner wif her onnir. She tinki sum tym doorin da dey, wat she goin 2 wer? N she choosz da owtfit n poots it owta da cuppord 2 air. Mebbe sum dolliz tinki difrintli 2 cindi but she alweyz choooz a dress or skert bcoz nut so ez 4 da dolli 2 cum owt in pantz 4 her.

About an howr b4 she needs redi 4 her onnir, she hab a showr n scrub her bodi ull cleen. She wash her hair n mek it ull shini.

Den she kerfooli choosz doz undergarmints n stockingz n she pootz doz on. She dryz her hair n makes it biggr dan uzuel - mor dolli like. N den she pootz on her make up, beri kerfooli coz she wan 2 look pretti. She pootz on da owtfit da she chozen n sum high shooz or bootz, n sprays hessef wif perfoooom. She choosz sum jewelz - some bracelets, n a neklace n sum dangli ear ringz 2 cumpleet da look n da feel.

She lookz in da mirror at da final result and ges wat? She seez da dolli lookin bak at her n insyd her hart n her mynd she noz dat da dolli alyv.

Now, der wun little deeetale dat cindi nut menshin. Sum hoooz mey wonder bowt dat. Gigglz.

B4 she poot on her owtfit, eben b4 she do enetin else afta her showr, cindi poot in her pluggi, n pussibli (tee-hee) dis parta da reeezun dat she feel beri dolli 2.

But, eben if nut yoos a pluggi, gettin ull dollied up (n der a reazun 4 dat expressin, no?) hepz a gurl 2 find her dolli.

Dis cindiz tip for the day. Hab fun!

The Training School - chapter 1

As William drove Lucille down the tree lined driveway towards an attractive white wooden, two story house she tried hard to process what William had told her. He would be gone a month and would be unable to see her but he would visit her when he got back from his business trip. He wanted this time to be a useful learning experience for her; one where she would grow and learn more about herself. He asked only that she do as she was told and to always remember that whatever she was asked to do by anyone at the house, it was at his command.

William had given her no warning of what was about to happen. She tried to suggest that she had appointments to keep and things to do but he was prepared for this and told her that his secretary would attend to her commitments as they appeared in her daily appointment book and that he had appointed a cleaner and gardener to take care of the house whilst she was away. Her phone calls and emails would be directed through to his secretary and Anna would advise people that Lucille was at a retreat and handle all issues that came up. She need not worry about anything.

Not especially comfortable with surprises and being unable to do her usual planning, Lucille became flustered. Her mind immediately went to what she should pack and she told William that she would need at least an hour before she could be ready. He had thought of that as well.

“I have already packed your bag. They asked that you packed lightly since there is a dress code there. Darling, they will provide everything for you. Just gather your makeup and toiletries. Quickly now!”

William’s announcement was not entirely surprising to Lucille. She had entered into a power exchange relationship with him from the outset and understood that he was on the top. She had responded quite naturally to his assertive approach with her and their affections for one another were evident to anyone who saw them together.

However, William had been caught up in a number of major deals that soaked up his time and he was frustrated that he had not had the time to progress Lucille as he would have liked. There was so much hidden potential inside of her. He was sure of that. But, she was secretive about her thoughts. When he heard of the training school, sent for the brochures and finally met the man who had set it up he was convinced that this was the sort of opportunity for Lucille that he could not pass up.

Nicholas, the Principal of the Training School had been scrupulous in working with William in the past few weeks over every minor detail and he now had a long list of goals for Lucille. It was impossible to achieve them all in a month, or even two months, he cautioned William, but Lucille would be welcome to return periodically to achieve a new goal, if that was what he wished. That said Nicholas gave his guarantee that much could be accomplished in a period of four weeks, working with her day by day, and that he should not worry. Lucille was in safe and caring hands. They had been doing this work for many years now.

Of course, William asked for letters of recommendation and to telephone other husbands and owners who had sent their girls to the Training School. He was truly astonished to hear such words of praise and acknowledgement of a “life changing” experience. He listened to stories of how girls were now “liberated”, “had embraced their true nature” and how the couples were “blissfully happy” and became more convinced, minute by minute, that he was doing the right thing.

When the car stopped outside the front door, Nicholas was there to greet them. He opened the door for Lucille and once she was standing he kissed her on the left cheek, on the right cheek and then again on the left cheek. He had a wonderful, engaging smile and she could not help but relax in his company.

“Welcome, Lucille. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“Thank you.”

William had come around to join them and both men put out their arms confidently and shook hands and exchanged pleasantries.

“Won’t you please come inside for some refreshments?”

William and Nicholas had already agreed that William would say his goodbyes to Lucille at this juncture. William feared that Lucille would make a scene and beg him not to leave her there and he wasn’t sure that he could resist her pleas.

“That is very kind, but I must get back to the city.”

Nicholas took from William the small suitcase he was holding. William turned to Lucille and held her tight; kissed her passionately and looked deeply into her eyes as if he were transmitting to her his strength and resolve.

“Remember darling, this is my gift to you. Do as they tell you. Remember that everything that happens here is with my consent. When you obey Nicholas and his staff, you obey me. I love you very much. Goodbye.”

She could feel the tears welling in her eyes and she did not want to cry when they were parting for such a long time and under these circumstances, so she said the least she could.

“Goodbye, William. I love you very much, too.”

He gave her a final squeeze and got in his car and drove away, whilst Nicholas escorted Lucille into the house. The bright sun of the day was a stark contrast to the cool interior and it occurred to Lucille as she followed Nicholas down the hall that she was going from the light into the dark, to a situation that frightened her but also excited and enticed her. Her curiosity beckoned her forward.

The Training School - prelude

For as much as I do say here on these pages, there is so much that I can't say. How on earth can I type into this blank space for you all to read, the machinations of my kinky mind?

You surely would not be interested to know about the training school in my mind. How devilishly dirty you would think my mind if I were to detail what happens there.

As much as it will disgust you, I am prepared to reveal that what happens to me there is not at the hands of just one man. Not by a long shot! There are many men who train me at the school and in fact, this is an essential ingredient of the success of the training school. When my body is prepared for my owner, so too is my mind. My mind must become that of a fucktoy and so it is critical that the men have me understand that I may object to nothing.

I don't. I don't object to anything at all because I see what happens to other girls who object and I don't want that to happen to me. To be perfectly honest, I also don't object to my treatment because I have no reason to object. The men keep me in a state of readiness and desire that demands I receive a great deal of attention and it is beyond the scope of one man to fulfil my current needs once they have tapped into my hidden desires.

Sordid, despicable, dark and dirty things happen at the training school and all at the behest of my owner who has provided the men with a long list of requirements before I should be sent home.

Try not to think ill of me. I shall not share with you the demands made of me at the training school. Unless, of course, you want that.

Fluency

It is stated in the the Bible, Ecclesiastes III (King James Version), "To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven."

As I wake to a beautiful sunny morning here in the country, the only sound that I can hear (apart from the click clack of my acrylic nails on the keyboard) is birds singing. And, it occurs to me that a long, wet, dreary winter has its purpose. How could one really know the beauty of this morning, the magic of this experience if one has not lived through the winter and waited, waited, waited for this moment?

As my children were growing up, every now and again there was the ever so sad tale of someone that we knew, sometimes close to us, sometimes just acquaintances, or other parents whose children were at the same school, whose child had taken their life in the dead of the night. And each time I thought that the great pity and sorrow of it all was that they had not understood that the difficult days would pass and after them, happiness would come.

I feel in an extraordinarily good place right now. I felt a shift in my mind a few days ago that felt really wondrous - a sense that I had overcome all my internal struggles and that I was handling life with ease. Suddenly, everything seemed do-able. I had the feeling that it was all within my powers. I had no more control than I did yesterday but I felt under control, able to not only cope with any situation but to find my peace with it and to thrive.

At school, when my son begins a new chapter of German or Chinese the first thing he does is to make a set of cards - the word in English on one side of the card and the word in German (or Chinese) on the other. It is a little routine I started him off with when his vocabulary tests demonstrated that he didn't have command of the new words for the chapter. And, with the words now in his command, he executes the tasks of the chapter without difficulty discovering that by the time of the topic test a few weeks later, his results are very good.

I have done the same thing for myself with my submission lessons. I have written down my lessons, reading them to myself over and over, making sense of them, internalising them and embracing them. I have a little black book where I write them and it goes with me wherever I go. And, with the rules and vocabulary of my lessons, I have attempted to put the lessons into practice and to make them part of my everyday life.

Learning foreign languages did not come easily to me at school. Yes, I took my French all the way through high school but my son is much smarter than me and I needed to work really hard to achieve the score I needed; a requirement in those days to go onto study Arts at university. Perhaps, if I had made out some cards...?

It takes time. It takes time to learn the lessons of submission and to really own them: to embrace them with your heart and your mind and your soul. My lessons have finally, and after a great deal of practice and work, seeped into the pores of my skin and buried themselves deep inside of me. They are a part of me and they won't go away. Of course, I will need to continue to use them, to practice the language of submission, to converse and to write and to read but I feel fluent now. It is not difficult and I enjoy it. I enjoy it a great deal.

There are many learning styles and one way to get through some tests is just to memorize a stack of information. It never worked for me and I had to work with material until I understood it from all sides. And, when it came to Literature or History or Philosophy I needed to do even more. I needed to not only know it very well but to feel it: to feel a connection with the text such that I could write from my heart; not the words of some esteemed professor who had analyzed the text but my own response to it.

This is most certainly a guided exploration that I am on but also a very personal and individual one. It delights me to write, I am at peace. It has made me very happy.

Communication styles

In many ways, a power exchange is an alternative form of communication. Fundamentally, I developed interest in the power exchange dynamic because I was exploring a way to communicate with my husband that was suited to his personality and to mine.

I do most sincerely hope that I have not painted an incorrect picture of my husband. He has a very soft side, is generous to a fault when he can be, is loving and sweet natured much of the time. His Achilles heel is most definitely his temper and a sense of frustration when things don't go his way. My Achilles heel is that I become really upset internally when I feel that someone has acted unfairly towards me. The power dynamic, I hoped, would take these two factors into account and allow us to better communicate with one another.

In spite of the many challenges of the past eighteen months in our lives, I feel certain that the power exchange has improved the way we communicate. Unfortunately, we still do trip ourselves up. I am happy to say, however, that these situations are more and more rare. When I think about these occurrences, there truly is no point in considering "fault". Yes, perhaps he was unreasonable in ways and I was unable to recover quickly enough, so perhaps I am at fault there. The best way I know how to deal with these occurrences is to reflect on them when I am totally calm and try to use them as learning situations. So, with that said, allow me to consider one of those more recent situations.

We were away last week, my youngest son and I accompanying my husband on a business trip. One day, he told us he had a meeting at lunchtime and he thought we could take a walk down on the boardwalk by the river before that. That sounded nice. I got ready but he was still not dressed. As he and my son ate their breakfast and mindlessly watched something or other on the television, I sorted out the apartment and when he still wasn't ready, I took my book out to the balcony to read. (Yes, that was a sort of protest. I can admit that now.)

Quite suddenly, I think he realized that time had flown by and he became irritated. Was I ready? Why did he always have to wait for me? Why had I taken both the keys? (He found his key a few minutes later.) He completely lost his temper and became, as far as I was concerned, totally unreasonable and unfair.

Perhaps, he thought that I would hurry him along. Perhaps, he thought I would remind him of the fact that we had left precious little time to take the walk? Perhaps, he expected me to stand waiting at the front door for him to be ready. We have had this conversation over and over – that I can’t just stand by him for what could be hours for him to be ready to leave; that I have plenty to do and will do tasks whilst he does what he needs to do until he informs me he is ready.

As he became more offensive with his accusations I lost all desire to take a walk with him and told him so. I think at that moment deep down he registered that he had done it again, but when people are upset they aren’t inclined to admit it, and he followed me out to the balcony and lectured me, telling me that my ego was in play again. I really was far too upset to acknowledge that or to accompany him and he left with our son for the walk, which was fine by me.

I can’t really explain on paper the internal distress I experience at such moments. It is not unknown for me to crawl up into a ball but I wanted to heal that day. I needed to find my equilibrium and find my peace. The previous day I noted that the city had a famous Cathedral and I picked up my handbag and went in search of it. On my way, I passed a pretty church and I decided to go inside. It was heavenly to sit in the quiet church and as ten minutes or so went by I could begin to feel myself settle down.

In fact, I found myself shortly thereafter in the midst of a Catholic service and although I could not make out a lot of the priest’s words, I knelt when others knelt and so on. At a certain point he must have given a directive and the next thing I knew a girl who had come in after me and sat in the pew in front of me turned to me, smiled beautifully, held out her hand and said, “Peace be with you.” I shook her hand and repeated the phrase and then again with another girl beside her.

I felt an extraordinary sense of happiness. My whole body buzzed with a sense of love and when I knelt shortly thereafter, I found that tears had formed in my eyes and were rolling down my cheeks. I gathered myself and left shortly thereafter, incredibly moved by the whole experience.

I left the church, rang my son and collected him a few minutes later from the hotel and we went to the Botanical Gardens and along the board walk and he showed me what he had seen with his Dad. I suggested we call to see if my husband would like to join us for a late bite and when he arrived we kissed and he gave me one of his puppy dog looks – the one that means he knows he was being difficult. We had a lovely afternoon together, the three of us.

The only other mention we made of the incident was just when we were about to walk into the apartment again later that day and I said, “You can be really difficult” and he said, “Yes, I can.”

It would make me extraordinarily happy if we never had such an exchange ever again. We are both upset by them and I think they hurt us. But, neither of us is perfect and I don’t imagine that we will ever be perfect. But, I think the power exchange we engage in is allowing for a much faster repair time.

I recognize my role in the relationship. As well, I recognize the need to go away sometimes and heal myself; to cleanse myself; to self-soothe. Instead of asking him for what he cannot give me, I have developed strategies to cope better and I think that is entirely legitimate. Demanding that he apologize, waiting for him to apologize or taking full blame for the situation are all strategies that don’t work.

On the other hand, I do accept my part of the blame. In my marriage, I will always be the ‘Personal Assistant’ – the one who takes note of the time, who needs to be ready on his time frame, the one who keeps the show on the road. And, sitting idly reading my book and not managing the situation was a red rag to a bull. He expects more.

I do not believe that a power exchange dynamic provides all the answer to issues between people in a marriage. However, for us, it greases the wheels and makes for a smoother ride, and that is indeed, a good thing.

Toyz

In sooooooo meni weyz, cindi alredy beri cuntaynd. She nut worri n she nut tinki ull dat much. She beri gud n beri wel behayvd. On da odd occashin she nut wel behayvd, but dis so beri unappreshe8d dat doz slipz beri rare now. She liki 2 pleez.

cindi liki fun tingz 2. It sertinlee seems 2 cindi dat doz peepel hoo wif cindi, njoy her cumpineee. Dey seem njoy da fakt dat she beri cumpliant n she do wat she told. Dey seem njoy her bubbli natoor n eben how silli she sumtymz aktz.

Cors, cindi nut alweyz abel 2 shine. Sumtymz she poot wey on da shelf n she haf wayt 4 da next tym dat sumwun wan pley wif her. Dis da lyf of da dolli. Dis parta her cuntaynmin.

4 doz peepel nut no so much bout dolliz, dey hab strung desyrz n dey desyr lotz n lotz of pleytym. Coz dey nut need tinki bout ull sortsa borin stuff, dey tinki mor bout fun tingz, n sex a beri fun ting 2 a dolli.

Der a new tot in cindiz lyf: dat it nut rite dat da dolli hab access 2 hessef.

"Wat talkin bout?" cindi wanna no. "Her bodi hab neeeeeeeedz...."

It tot it tym 4 bimbo 2 chenj: 2 "surrender".

"So bimbo hab no mor climaxzzzzzzz????!!!!"

"Oh dat nut da cays; jus nut wen she wun dem, n how she wun dem."

Cindi wanna no how dis werk. She beri cooooorius.

"Tinki bout it, ull pluggi, n den beltd, lokd, poot 2 bed den toy poot wey; yoosd l8r."

"Dat cood werk..."

"Bimbo got sins now how it toy?"

Oh ya, she got sins of how toy ull rite.

Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy!