slave journal of the kiva

when pet submitted a photo of its tattoo that is writ across its pubic mound to a website, there were, naturally various strong reactions in the comments section. after all, it reads, ‘worthless cunt.’

one of the comments was particularly puzzling to pet, in that pet didn’t understand why the commenter would make the assumption that they did. it was something along the lines of they pretending to be a child asking mommy why there were bad words on her vagina.

now, to begin with, it confuses pet that people assume that a child will be seeing their mother’s private parts. pet has never had an interest in seeing its mother’s private parts, and doesn’t ever recall doing so voluntarily.

the second issue pet had with the comment was that they made an assumption that pet would be having children at all. what, just because it is female? just because it is a female of child bearing age, it must therefore have children? it feels rather insulted that people would assume that. having children is not for everyone.

pet does not believe that having children is for it. it, for a long time, wanted children. or it thought it did. it had great visions and ideas of somehow being a really great mother, much better than its own mother ever was, and giving the children it might bear wonderful lives and great things and just having happy children.

not that it had any idea how to accomplish such a feat. well, it did have an idea. a start. it would have to find a male who would then impregnate it and provide for the children whiles pet raised them. some sort of male husband father type. and so pet found the ex-husband, married him, and planned to have his children.

indeed, if it were not for the fact that said ex-husband was minimally attracted to pet in an actual sexual way, and that he and it were both paranoid about money, then the plan to have children might have succeeded, royally fucking up pet’s life. however, it did not.

and in being with Master, the kiva has come to realize that in actuality, it doesn’t want children. at all. somehow the dream of motherhood that pet had fostered for so many years went up in a puff of smoke in the face of lack of real reasons for having children.

pet has no desire to procreate. it has a vague sense of wishing to pass on its genetic heritage, but it isn’t a driving urge. it never really had a strong urge to have children, just the urge to be a better mother than its own mother had been. an effort to one up her. to prove to her that it could be done better. and what would the point of such a life be? to continually be enslaved to the image it has of its mother, enslaved to the children it bore, and enslaved to standards and ideals that don’t really fit who it is inside. and none of those enslavements would involve even a fraction of the orgasms that being enslaved to Master entails.

it agrees that a female creature that has worthless cunt written across said cunt, shouldn’t be around children. the kiva is a nasty, sexual, deviant, fucked up freak. Master’s personal freak. it does not wish to have any prolonged interactions with children, let alone a lifetime of such.

pet found that it could not answer for itself the question of why procreate, to its satisfaction. it would interfere with BDSM. pregnancy would take its toll on pet’s body. the con column was full and pros were severely lacking. why add to the population? why pass on these fucked up genes?

pet doesn’t want children. why should it?

Master recently brought up to it a proposition. one that would change the way in which pet consents in this M/s relationship.

as it stands, pet makes a choice, every moment it is with Him, to continue to consent. it has the right to withdraw its consent at any time. the withdrawal of pet’s consent would constitute the end of the relationship. it has no intention of withdrawing its consent. pet loves being His. being His in just this way, His slave, property, pet, fuckmeat, toi. it has no desire to see that end.

what Master has brought up, is the idea of restricting the time that pet can withdraw consent. to change the period of withdrawal of consent from any time to one certain time. first thing in the morning, every day.

at first pet was dubious about this proposition. it sounded like it could mean trouble. if Master had some sort of psychotic breakdown, then what would pet do? but at the same time, in that sort of situation who’s to say He would respect the right of consent at any time? it is not that pet thinks such a thing likely, but that its mind went directly for the scary possiblities and skipped over the possibilities of deepening the relationship.

it was only when it got home from work and was able to talk to Master face to face that those possibilities became clear. He began to speak of how it could deepen the relationship, that the ability to beg Him to stop, and not mean it, would free pet that much more. it gives Him more control, more of an ability to push pet right up to its limits and see what happens.

to be all that much more subject to His sadistical whims… how fucking erotic.

as soon as pet began to look at it that way, it became the apologist for this plan. it agreed and more than agreed. but it also agreed to wait for the final decision to be made until it had had a few days to think. He brought this up on thursday, and today pet made its choice.

starting tomorrow morning, pet will only be able to withdraw its consent to Master first thing in the morning. not a specific time, but a time of day, it could be five thirty or it could be eleven am or even after (though pet no longer tends to sleep much past noon anymore, and even that is rare. He’s turned it into a bit of a morning person).

He can push it so hard that it begs to be released, curses Him, and cries and weeps. He can see exactly where and how it breaks. He can use it like a piece of fucking owned flesh and not care how it begs. to pet, this is erotic, this is beautiful, it is a truer expression of an M/s relationship for pet. Master’s way, pet’s way, not the right way for all, but pet feels that this piece will only contribute to the strength and depth of Oour relationship.

and if pet feels that Master has truly gone insane, fallen off the deep end and it needs to withdraw consent for its own sanity there is a way. the only way that pet could ever be free of Him.

in that case pet would have to kill Him. there would be no other way.

pet is delighted that starting in the morning, there will only be one time during the whole day that pet will be able to withdraw its consent. that it can give Him that feedback of when He pushes it so far that it would seriously consider quitting the relationship, enough to actually say the words, for even if they don’t ‘count’ pet will not say them frivolously. pet truly feels that this is a privilege. a privilege that Master has granted it to be able to tell Him exactly when it considers itself truly pushed too far.

pet was feeling ill, but it knew that that didn’t really matter. it got a brief stay, but it knew that it would be most pleasing to Him if pet did as it should. so it did. it still felt sick, but this was important. it had talked to her about it recently, and she wanted to see as well.

see pet’s asscunt be filled with a big black plastic baseball bat.

it had only done it in front of Master before, and of course by itself slugger fucked pet quite a lot. but to do it in front of another person. that was a new step in the journey. a new plateau.

pet got out the crisco and oiled up slugger. it went against a wall that would give her a good view of the entry and began to push. pet has discovered that just like its mouthcunt, its asscunt has two stages. for the mouth there is the actual mouth with teeth and tongue and then there is the throat. with its asscunt there is a similar thing wherein there is an antechamber which is smaller, and then a ‘throat’ behind it. it is as if pet swallows slugger, after he penetrates to a certain depth, and indeed it feels like its cunt is swallowing slugger, as he slides in once he pops past that barrier.

it felt so displayed. it felt her eyes on it. the heat of her eyes staring at its flesh as it strained against the bat against the wall. when slugger popped in, pet felt a sense of relief through the pain it still had in its tummy. a rush of happiness from having succeeded in being pleasing to Him. it brought itself and the bat over to where Master and she sat together and gave her a better view. Master allowed it to lay down, and proceeded to use slugger to fuck pet’s cunt.

pet wasn’t paying a whole lot of attention at this point to anything, wrapped up in the sublime feelings coursing through its body mind and soul, but it heard Him tell her things, and it knew that at one point, she had her hand on slugger and was fucking pet.

not many can say that they’ve had the experience of fucking a girl’s ass with a baseball bat, but that can now go on her checklist.

pet felt good to share that with her. good to be able to show itself and feel accepted. nothing wrong with fucking a baseball bat. with getting orgasms from the penetration of an inanimate object too large to fit in pet’s mouth.

how did it feel for her? to be an instrument of such pleasures and sensations…

pet looks forward to fucking slugger in front of other audiences, comforted by the experience because it confirmed what pet had felt about other things, such as being naked in public. that pet is His display and if it pleases Him, pet cannot but help to find pleasure and happiness in the act.

pet heard the sound of the toilet lid coming up and scampered to the bathroom where Master was pissing. He allowed His pet to clean Cock.

pet felt so good to be allowed this protracted contact with Cock, and to get little tastes of His piss. pet had already gotten a bellyfull of piss before dinner, so it wasn’t too sad that it wasn’t allowed to drink this batch.

“okay,” He said and pet reluctantly pulled off, sucking Cock as dry as it could, because Master had expressed a preference for pet’s sucking Cock dry over drying Cock with its hairs.

as it pulled back it thought it had perhaps made a mistake of interpretation, that He didn’t really want pet to pull away, because His hand was in its hair, grabbing, pulling, a tightening grip moving pet about. He used His hand in its hair to shove it to the bed.

“may it piss?” pet asked, voice breathy already at the energy He was producing in it. usually He allows it to potty before He does whatever He chooses to do to His pet. but not tonight.

“no, no potty, and it won’t piss on the bed or it will sleep on it all night,” His voice was dark to pet and certain. He positioned it over a towel (to catch squirts, not piss) and allowed it to hump His finger. He had one hand on buster and the other on the clit. pain visited pet from His fingernails digging into delicate pink bits. His hands were occupied, but pet was more helpless with its hands free. completely controlled by His hands sending waves of pleasure through its body spiced with pain, and His voice speaking to it of its nature, its love of piss. His eyes pierced it, darkness boring into its lighter brown eyes, reading everything, giving away nothing. pet orgasmed, but didn’t squirt, part of the pain was the pressure of the bladder and fear of pissing the bed.

pet was gone. lost in His eyes, and unable to think clearly, as it demonstrated when He told it to wet Cock and then told it to remove buster. it stopped in the midst of starting to wet Cock to remove buster because it wasn’t able to think on its own of doing two things at once. only when Master told it to do both at once was it able to comprehend His intent and obey properly. pet tugged buster out with its left hand as it leaned over to wet Cock, which was already hard and felt huge in pet’s mouth. it allowed its mouth to be wet and drooly on Cock in order to better lubricate It.

seemingly too soon, as usual, Master pushed pet off of Cock and pet got into position for His penetration of His bitch. it lay on its back, legs up on His shoulders for balance and position, and its cunt wide open and relaxed. though pet did have a moment of thought where it wondered if its cunt would be nice and open for Master or small and tight.

it needn’t have worried. Cock slid right inside pet’s wet and ready cunt. no resistance, no blockage, just an easy slide right in that pet could hardly feel. and how fucking delicious it was to pet to hardly be able to feel Cock sliding in and out of its shit filled cunt. but that state didn’t last.

pet’s body was driven into a state of high excitement, soon Cock driving in and out of its cunt became painful in its pleasure, pleasurable in the pain that It caused His pet. He was able to pull Cock completely out of pet’s cunt, so that Cock’s head was just outside of pet’s fuckhole, and then simply thrust right back in, rapidly. the intensity made pet moan and scream and pushed pet ever farther into an animal state, squirts beginning to jet forth from His cunt, not piss, no, real squirts. and pet still felt the pressure of the full bladder with each thrust.

how the fuck can He do that? isn’t it supposed not to work that way? but pet’s cunt is filled with shit, it is where shit comes out that Cock goes in, and it acts just like a cunt, no resistance, smooth penetration, staying open and welcoming for Cock.

fierce noises, growls, inarticulate, His words a meaningless hum in front of pet’s closed eyes, closed in order to imagine its desire, and His desire for it. to be a rutting beast being taken by an animal. submitting to the raging lust within. it is just a pet. just an animal. something to fuck. to hurt. to abuse and use.

“cum with Me,” He said, and pet sucked with its fuckhole for all it was worth and squirted as Cock spurted Master’s cum deep inside His pet’s bowels.

pet continued to suck at Cock, more slowly now, as Master recovered. He then slid out and allowed His pet to clean Cock with its mouth. it tasted deliciously of cum and assgoo. not too much squirt had gotten on Cock, which was good to pet as it doesn’t like the tastes of cunt as much and especially finds its squirts cover up too much the more delicate and delectable tastes of Cock and ass.

He had His pet wash Cock in the shower, as pet’s fuckhole had thoroughly coated Cock and could potentially be bad if left dirty. such a dirty little fuckhole. pet’s mouth toilet simply wasn’t good enough to clean a mess of such magnitude.

pet went and collapsed next to the computer when He was done with it. pet still had to piss, but felt it dare not mention it. it waited until He told it to get ready for bed (not all that long), and then made sure it really could piss. it was as if pet felt He meant it could never piss again, when He told it it couldn’t before He used it.

that isn’t, pet is pretty sure, what He meant, but that is how pet’s brain processed it. it loves that He didn’t let it piss before using it. it loved that reminder that it is only by His mercy and grace that He allows it to use the toilet at any time. that He is in control of it in that oh so intimate way. pet does not have a right to use the toilet, to piss or to shit. it is a privilege granted at His whim and withheld the same way.

pet does not struggle with asking Master when it needs to use the bathroom. though pet might struggle to hold it if Master chooses to deny pet’s request, that is a different sort of struggle. pet freely and easily gives up the right to use the toilet. it feels natural to pet.

the second drive deep into the woods was just as relaxing as the first. pet enjoys spending time with Master, talking or being silent, enjoying the nature around Uus. there is something very calm and nice about being all alone in a car with Master. a space of peace and love. the drive seems to take very little time. and the roads, being not all that well maintained, provide vibrational entertainment for pet.

arriving at the spot, a quick potty break, and then a short climb back up to Oour tree. pet made a contribution by asking if He and it should not test the tree limb again since it had been a week since the last trip. and Master agreed and decided that limb testing shall always happen before suspension, for safety’s sake.

He had been practicing His ties and knots on pet and had a better idea of what and how He wanted to do this. though the weather was overcast and damp, pet stripped down to its bikini. (nudity had the chance of sawing the ropes with one of pet’s hard nipples.) the top could be easily taken off after the ropes were tied, but the bottom was there to stay after Master tied the waist and legs up.

pet huddled in Master’s raincoat for much of the tying process. it was trying to keep warm. pet gets cold very easily, so it knew that the longer it remained covered and conserved heat, the better. pet was sprayed down with bug spray to prevent pesky mosquito bites in awkward places and, in what seemed like no time at all, He was hooking up the chest.

He made it so that this time, each segment that connected pet to the limb overhead was detachable from pet by a caribiner. that way pet could be released very quickly without having to untie anything. the lift was much less painful this time, and more smooth. there was pressure, and some of the pain was from the prior bruising, but it felt so much better. there was some awkwardness with the legs, which was corrected.

and then pet just floated. waiting patiently for Him to finish lifting the legs all the way and tying the feet. it felt so good to be limp in the ropes. lying there, still, serene. but it was difficult to breathe with the rope coming over its shoulders and digging into its neck a bit. so it held the rope off the neck with its hands. and held its head up, alternately, in order to relieve the pressure. but soon Master fixed this issue.

first He gave it hand holds, simple loops that allowed its hands a place to rest (this time), and pet felt good moving itself about a bit, pushing up, twisting around a little, playing in the air like in water. finding a place a balance and moving around various points. swinging and swaying a bit. the cold air didn’t matter. but the neck thing was irksome.

Master decided to take that away by tying its head in an upright position. and how on earth could He possibly do that? something pet has been wanting to try for a long time.

hair bondage.

now, pet was not certain that it would work. it has extremely fine and silky hair that does not take well to curling or other styling. and the first couple ways that Master attempted to secure its hair indeed ended in pet’s hair slipping out. but He did not give up. He found a way, and pet was able to just be in the air. head securely and deliciously held, the prickings of pain from the pulling of its hairs only adding to the serene and contented state in which pet was floating.

how long was it up? it doesn’t know. He took some pictures of it. He let it just be, let it float and fly. let it look at the grass and the birds and the bugs. didn’t try to make it explain its mysterious words that it would spout at times.

“there is no need to be jealous of the wind,” pet said, thinking it quite profound, but at the same time realizing that it was high and the words probably weren’t coming across as deeply as pet meant them too. it tried to explain to Master, but it felt like it was speaking a foreign language. like there was no way to fully communicate how it was feeling, the state of being, the state of wonder with life and the universe and everything.

He used the aphrodite vibrator and made pet orgasm as it hung in the tree. they were accents on the experience, but not mind shattering, because pet’s mind was fluid, it couldn’t be shattered, or broken. it flowed with everything that was going on around it, safe from harm and safe from negativity. pet had no fears. no worries. it was beautiful.

this is truly something that pet wants to do again and again and again. Master is planning on building something that He can use to suspend pet indoors at home. pet can’t wait. to be able to just anytime get that helpless feeling. thought the drive to the woods and back is part of the fun and the peace of pet’s experiences with suspension thus far.

when He brought it down from the ropes, it tried to get warm, finally feeling the cold. the sun was starting to come out and pet basked in sunbeams. happy. the short hike back down to the car ended in a quick potty break for pet, and then it lay on a sunwarmed picnic table.

Master made it eat, which led to the discovery that pet can’t tolerate clams, but that wasn’t until later. it was good to be in the moment, sitting on a picnic table, eating food, Master making it eat rather than chat as it was inclined to do. pet tends to become quite chatty when ‘high’ and that day was no exception. but not having eaten since breakfast Master wanted His pet to eat.

after eating was the drive home. Master let pet shower the bug spray off and then take a bath. that’s when pet’s tummy started hurting.

it still can’t see the beginning. where it all began. the path that it now follows.

it began with the choice not to win by losing. not to celebrate being depressed and downtrodden and worse off than anyone else pet cared to point to. not to enjoin with those who would suck away at any happiness pet might garner. to distance from those psychic vampires. to recognize them for what they truly are.

the first steps were pet’s. those steps made pet ready for Master. prepared it to be more than a chunk of mud. to be a lump of clay, that He might form it, shape it, and create with it something greater than it could be on its own.

what seduction issued, what promise uttered, what bauble dangled, led pet to where it now is?

the seduction of belonging. it is a strong thing. to belong. pet was never able to belong very well in groups. the groups into which it was thrust growing up never seemed to accept it, and the groups in which it found a temporary place never held it. it was always ready to move on, because it didn’t really belong. but here, here was an offer not of belonging to a group (and indeed the group held itself aloof, wanting little to do with this quirky girl), but of belonging to a Man. a Man willing to take it. and keep it.

how spiritually seductive, the notion of true belonging to one who always longed for such and never could find it for more than a moment. a place. a return on investment. treating pet as something worthy of respect, and degrading and humiliating it, all at the same time. a lopsidedness to it. no, the creation, in pet, of a balanceable imbalance. seduction. leaving pet longing to fall…

a seduction, but not a false seduction, because He never lied to pet. never mislead it as to where He was bringing it, or why. discombobulating its senses with extremes of pain and pleasure. He fucked it before touching it. fucking its mind and its soul, and using the magic held against those to fuck the body as well, all without a touch. forcing the soul and the mind in opposite directions, spiraling apart, a waiting hole for Him to fuck opening up in pet’s very depths of being.

it didn’t know, before, that it was taking the path of happiness. it didn’t know that that was where it would lead. but it has. that is the way in which Master has led it. to happiness. quite a return on pet’s investment.

pet is learning how seduction works. pet is learning how to apply what was once used against it, against others. not only a seduction for the mutual benefit of both parties, but how others were able to make it feel bad, feel less than what it truly is, and now it can do the same to them. if they allow. because it is true that no one can make you feel inferior without your consent.

how insidious the concept of consent. a high credo in BDSM, but at the same time, how often people try to wiggle around it. wiggle and waggle their tongues until they’ve managed to confuse someone into thinking they’ve consented. the casual touches that are brushed off when one complains.

saying that pet should not dress so exhibitively in public, because the innocent public has not consented to see such a degrading (translate tittilating) sight. to which pet replies, it does not consent to people traipsing about wearing enough perfume to choke pet. it does not consent to street preachers or beggars or bums. it does not consent to assholes driving on the roads. that stops nothing. they would laugh at the idea that they should stop being as they are because there are those who do not consent to it. and pet believes that it has every right to be how it is publicly, without asking the consent of every passerby (following the laws of the place where it lives, of course).

the real fear is of corruption. and seduction. young girls tend to look at pet and smile, for they see a pretty girl. it heard once, in a grocery store, a little girl saying how pretty pet looked, while her mother was desperately trying to convince her that pet was nasty and she shouldn’t want to look like pet. they fear that they are weak, and prone to corruption. and their fear makes them weak, and prone to seduction.

pet was taken, and seduced. to pet, that is a key component of how pet is enslaved to Master in an SSC fashion. it is not just about taking a girl and tossing her in basement, keeping her chained up. it is also about seducing such a creature into actively participating in her own enslavement. how much more delicious, the female that begs to be hurt, for no other reason than that she needs it?

“please Master, would You hurt Your pet?”

pet asks the question.

pet knows it is different from asking for a specific thing. it is not to ask for a specific thing. such as, to ask Him to spank it with His hand, would not be proper. but this is right. this is pleasing to Him.

please hurt it.

a generality. a simple one. and pet does not ask, no, pet begs. approaching Him on all fours, head down as it nuzzles at His legs. it is not for pet to ask, but for pet to entreat, to beg and plead that He might hurt His pet, and freely give it what it so needs.

an urgent hunger inside it. for pain. for attention. for stimulation. to be His, possessed by Him and owned by Him. used. abused. degraded. by its own pleadings.

the saying goes, “you asked for it.”

a threatening tone to that sort of thing.

so deliciously uncertain as it begs for pain. because it doesn’t know how He might fulfill that begging, should He choose to do so. it doesn’t know. He might smack it once or twice with His bare hands, or flog the very flesh from its back in an hour long session of endurance and tears. or anywhere in between. anywhere. anything could happen. it is slave. He is Master. and it has ‘asked’ for it.

please, its thoughts echo the body’s beg as it continues to nuzzles and rub at His legs, please hurt it…

“okay,” Master says. “get on the table.”

pet scrambles onto the table, lying face down since it received no other instruction on how to lie. no correction is issued, just pain. He picks up one of the straps He had just purchased for suspension and begins to whap pet’s asscunt lips with it. it is a different pain, rather light, but not to be ignored.

pet’s body relaxes into its submission. it has taken the leap, jumped off the fucking cliff into a world of unknown and unknowable pain. it is in His keeping and only He can decide what happens next to His piece of flesh lying on the table, vulnerable before Him by its own free will. choosing to be what He chooses, to endure what He chooses. subjugated.

more pain. more hits. different instruments. it hurts. pet screams. pet muffles itself, mindful of open windows and nearby neighbors. pet cries. pet finds release and freedom. it is so good to be hurt by Master. it is so good to choose to be subject to the Will and Whim of another. to ask Him, please. please hurt Your pet.

it was decided that nude would not be appropriate, this time, but pet certainly enjoyed being suspended wearing merely a bikini… and plenty of rope.

Master has often told it that He wants it to use its common sense, its logic and its ability to think in conjunction with its slavery. not to leave its head behind, just because He is telling it what to do. there are many small judgments that pet must make, for example, at work, if it is sick, there are some judgment calls it makes. an inhaler puff will be taken while informing Master, but not waiting for permission, as this falls under the realm of caring for His property.

there was a very clear example today of when to use that head that sits upon pet’s fine body. pet had been feeling ill all afternoon, after getting back from being suspended in a tree again (more on that later, it promises!). it thought it might be gas, or perhaps the deet that got into its mouth. it couldn’t have been something that it ate, because Master had eaten the same things and not gotten ill, right?

wrong.

the last time Master had pet try clams, it didn’t eat very many, and so it felt sick afterwards, but not especially so. it wasn’t noticeable. this time, after the intensity of the suspension, Master told it to eat up, and whenever it tried to slow down and talk, He told it again to eat. so pet ate a large quantity of clams. and then some sardines and also crackers with both. it then proceeded to drink a good deal of rehydration solution and some coca cola.

and then, after the drive back home, pet started feeling sick. Master let it have a bath, after it showered to wash off the deet (which, though icky, did keep His pet free from mosquito bites). and as it lay in the bath it started to feel ill. it removed itself from the bath and proceeded to lay down and be sick. Master allowed it.

eventually, having found no reasonable cause for alarm, and having several abortive bathroom visits, pet took a gas x, pronouced that it must be gas and told Master it was ready to go out to eat.

it did not, however, eat very much, because putting food in its mouth made it feel more sick. at Master’s behest, it did drink soda, as burping and passing gas seemed to make it feel better. He ate His pizza and pet drank soda and tried to not let its sickness make it too bad of company. it had a nice time at dinner, other than being in tummy pain and not eating. it really did, it felt love, and it was happy to be out with Master.

so then, He urges it to drink as much of the soda as it can before He and it leave. it slurps down all it can, but is finding it harder by the minute to ingest anything. He allows it to walk beside Him, its arm around His waist, His arm at its shoulders, but it is careful not to step ahead still.

all the way out to the car, pet is carefully stepping. and then, the choice comes upon it. stay behind Him, because it is ‘proper’ or run ahead and be a wise little pet. pet ran ahead.

“wha-” began Master.

pet began puking into the bushes.

“t?” finished Master.

from what pet puked up, it was definitely the clams that pet’s body had decided to reject. there was pepsi, but mostly it was clams. pet is never eating clams again. ever.

kinda gross, but it illustrates the point well. staying behind Master, at that point, would have involved puking on Master. that would be bad. perhaps the perfect slave would have found another way, running backwards and puking somewhere else, but pet feels that it chose well and wisely. the sickness was coming, and it had little time to make that choice.

it did, after the puking stopped, apologize for running ahead. pet feels it is important to acknowledge that it knows that it has not followed strict protocol. to let Master know that it knows. it assumes that He knows. and even if He doesn’t know, it wants to make sure that He does. okay that is a bit confusing. pet feels that Master knows when pet breaches protocols, such as running ahead of Him. pet feels that it is proper for pet to let Master know that it knows it has made a choice that is unusual. and sometimes it tells Him specifically why. in this case, there was no need for an explanation. gross, but self explanatory.

there is no such thing as an “always” rule. in fact, for pet, with Master, there aren’t really rules per se, but only guidelines, all of which are subject to His will and whim. pet has expectations. Master has expectations. there are some lines that are much less likely to be crossed than others (such as Master is much less likely to stop being Master than pet is to run ahead of Him to puke). however, nothing is set in stone. hm. well. pet believes that the basis of this relationship is, so to speak, set in stone. Master is Master, and pet is pet. within those chosen boundaries/expectations though, pet feels there is room not only for interpretation, but wisdom and common sense.

for many years pet has liked the song ‘teardrop’ by massive attack (aka the opening theme for house). it is a sweet simple song with pretty vocals and a nice beat. well, maybe not so simple other than vocally.

the opening lyrics are, “love love is a verb/ love is a doing word.” how many times has pet sung those words, or sung along to them? more than it can count. yet they are quite deep for pet, profound. love is a verb. love is a doing word. an action. it does not exist in a vacuum, nor does it exist without action.

pet, in its late teens and early twenties, would visualize the love it had for others as deep wells within itself. some being deeper than others, and some having no end. it would look within and say, ‘that is my love for chill, and there is my love for so and so.’ it would reach out to objectively see and feel and make up this static love that it pretended to. pet says pretend because it was not actually feeling love, but merely convincing itself that it was. pet was pretending to love, because it wanted love so badly and wanted to be loved.

but it didn’t act love. without acting love, showing love, being, doing and demonstrating love, pet was unable to truly give or receive it. by keeping its love objective, it distanced itself too far from action. now when pet thinks of its love for Master, it is not a distance, not a visualization. pet simply feels love for Him, and it demonstrates that love with every action it takes.

it cares for Him, with love. it serves Him dinner with love. every
action is full of love, because the root action of everything pet does is love. at least, that is pet’s goal. in general situations pet still has times where it backslides into reacting out of fear, but it works on that, and it knows it can turn to love, to service, to find its strength again. to prevent the knee jerk reaction of fearing and replace the reaction with an action out of love.

pet does many little things for Master. and He takes note. He doesn’t always thank His pet for such things, but He will periodically let pet know that He notices and approves of its actions. when Master is having an off day, pet supports Him, spiritually, mentally and physically in whatever ways it best can. spiritually it responds to brusque or irritated words by not taking them personally and with love. instead of escalating fears into a fight, it loves Him and there is no need to fight. mentally it thinks of things that might help Him, talks to Him and listens to Him. and physically it brings Him whatever He might want, and makes itself available, cuddling up to Him, being there, a beacon of love at His side. it all sounds so corny when pet writes it out, but it feels so right to do.

pet has happiness and it practices love. those two things are intimately related. pet does not believe that it could have this natural happiness, that it could have learned not to objectify love, if it had not entered into this M/s relationship with Master. if He had not taken it and freed it to be as it feels, then it does not believe that it would ever have found its natural place in life.
how can it say that pet could naturally be a slave? and that being enslaved has been good for it? it feels almost wrong to write it, and pet knows that this lifestyle that it lives is not for everyone. but it is for pet. it is what makes pet find a place of peace and natural rest. where it can easily act from love, because it is surrounded by love.

pet does not think the nature of its life is better or worse than anyone else’s. comparisons are invidious. but pet loves its life and wouldn’t have it any other way.

Master will be suspending it again this weekend. this time there will be an audience. and nudity too.

so Master has been practicing the harnesses He will be using saturday. piece by piece, changing things until they feel right for pet and look good to Him.

on the way up to the site last friday, pet asked Master if He was able to lift pet’s weight, able to catch it if it fell or carry it if it needed to be carried. He didn’t know. and once pet thought more, it realized that whiles He might need to support its partial weight if something went wrong, there wasn’t going to be a need for Him to support its full weight. if it fainted, well, He has a fully equipped first aid kit which includes smelling salts.

He was trying something different with the lower part, putting the ropes above and below pet’s hip bones, and then down to its upper thighs to form the harness. this style also gave Him handles with which He might pull on the harness, in order to test it, at least with some of pet’s weight on them. giving pet a feel for how they dig into pet’s flesh.

“lay down on the floor,” He told it, after He had finished the knots to His satisfaction. and pet awkwardly got itself into lying face down on the floor. the ropes made it difficult for pet to get there, but it managed with a minimum of fuss (it hopes). it felt Him step over to stand above it, saw His shadow and felt the ropes gain tension for just a moment before it was suddenly, and rather comfortably, off the ground. its arms remained, more as a support than as load bearing structures, touching the ground, but its lower torso and legs were flying…

“pick its arms up,” He told it, a laugh in His voice, as pet complied. pet felt that He as well felt a sense of wonder and joy at His ability to simply pick His pet up with this harness. a sense of childlike wonder and fun. and pet got high.

and it didn’t even get that low when, after it lifted its arms, its body see-sawed right into the floor. pet nose got a little smushed against the carpet and hurt for a little while, but it didn’t take the fun out of it, nor the highness that pet felt. it was so incredibly cool that Master can just lift it like that. is so incredibly cool.

the more Master practices, the more pet looks forward to saturday. it gets more and more excited. pet love ropes. it loves suspension. and it loves having an audience. it just can’t wait!

pet had been neglectful. pet had been letting other things get in the way of a most important task. that of keeping its asscunt well reamed out for Master’s pleasure. for He has told it that He is well pleased when pet’s cunt offers no resistance to Cock’s entry, when pet can hardly feel Cock inside itself, when His fuckings of pet become a pleasure only for Him.

so, there was some time, the other night, that pet found itself suddenly free. it could have written blogs, read books or blogs, done any number of things. but it had finished chores, and there was time before bed. so pet, thinking of a recent comment it made to a friend about baseball bats, went into the kitchen and got out the crisco.

pet proceeded to the bookshelf under which sat slugger, and picked him up, dusted him off and brought him, along with the crisco to where Master sat at His computer, seemingly not paying pet any attention.

it bowed low before Him, holding up slugger and the crisco and asked Master if it might please make love to slugger.

Master graciously allowed pet the privilege.

pet laved slugger generously with crisco, using the hand it used to apply to wipe its cunt in preparation. it then went to the wall and placed slugger’s little end against it. holding the large end delicately against its fuckhole. and then pressing, letting go of slugger with its hands as he began to slide inside pet.

it was worried that slugger wouldn’t go in, that it had been too long and pet’s fuckhole was too tight, that pet had neglected slugger and would be punished for its error. the pain. intensity. fuck. go in. fuck.

“come over here and do it pet,” Master told it, beckoning it next to Him.

“please, he’s almost in, ahhhhh,” said pet as slugger popped inside pet for the first time in months. “it comes over now Master?”

“come,” He said. and pet tried to crawl over maintaining slugger inside, but failed. instead it let slugger pop back out, and then brought him next to Master.

Master steadied slugger’s little end against the cushions and once again thrust itself onto slugger. pet’s cunt slid and swallowed slugger more easily now that the initial penetration had been taken care of. and pet made love to slugger. pet came from  a baseball bat sliding deeply inside its asscunt. assuring its ruination and preparation for yet larger objects to be inserted.

when pet’s cunt accepts slugger inside itself, it really and truly does swallow slugger. the point of resistance is past and the bat slides deep inside without pet pushing its body anymore, only sucking with its asscunt, sucking the bat in, fucking itself. the intensity, the pleasure, evident in pet’s entire mien.

He had allowed it, when it moved from the initial wall of penetration, to go grab the hitachi. and so, pet turned itself over onto its back, without losing contact and penetration with slugger, and proceeded to liberally apply the hitachi to its clit. all the while Master sat next to His pet, watching His entertainment for the evening have orgasms from the baseball bat deep inside its ass. an ass that His pet refers to as its cunt. a private show, for His entertainment, His personal freak, orgasming through the freedom He has bestowed upon it.

pet is not going to be neglecting slugger in the future. Master has, in light of the fact that free time is not something that pet really has, given pet a new rule regarding its use of slugger. at the very least, once a week. pet hopes to be able to make time to do more than that, but is grateful for Master’s guidance in this issue.

slugger is such a good lover to pet, and all pet needs to do to thank him is to use him, to fuck itself, to orgasm with him buried inside its ass…

Master allowed pet to take the day off of work for an adventure into the woods. an adventure that would involve, if all went well, the suspension of pet from a tree with ropes.

an early morning, but not as early as usual for a work day. Master and pet got up and got ready. pet forgot to pack the sunscreen but had some spare that it used to protect its tattoos. it has a roll on stick that doesn’t work for large areas so well, but is able to get the tattoos, which are most vulnerable to complications if pet burns.

it was a great drive. about two hours out into the middle of nowhere. following a river. verdant spring scenery and wild flowers in a profusion of purples and yellows. beauty everywhere, and, when the car was stopped, a kind of silence perfuming the air. sure, there was the rush of the water and the sounds of birds calling, but beneath the sounds of nature was a beautiful void that in cities is filled in by machine noises.

Master and pet stopped at several camp sites, mostly for pet to use potties. and then He pulled into another one and declared that it was time to explore. so He and it grabbed a few necessary items, such as pet’s inhaler, and began to hike up away from the river. pet was mostly paying attention to its footing, and trying not to fall, but Master was looking for a good tree.

and He found one. a nice stout branch hanging out perpendicular to the ground. this was the one.

so, a trek back to the car to get the suspension gear and anything else that might come in handy. first aid kit, water bottles filled with electrolyte mixes, oh and the camera.

then back up, and pet took a few pictures of the branch, and of Master testing whether the branch would hold. it watched as Master layed out the ropes He would be using, and then as He tossed a strap over the branch. catching the strap with a spreader bar, and pulling it down so He could reach both ends. the strap had a carabiner attached to it, and then a ring was attached to that.

then it was time to start roping pet. He decided to do clothes on for this first experiment, pet feels because of location, temperature and the fact that pet forgot the sunscreen. He put one layer of ropes around its chest, over the udders, and secured that to the ring.

“lean forward,” He said.

easier said than done. whether from the positioning or from the fact that there was only one contact point, it hurt a lot to lean forward, and whiles pet could lean forward and rest its upper body on the rope, it couldn’t quite lift its legs to put full body weight on.

He did another layer under pet’s udders. that helped, and pet was able to hang there a bit, lifting feet off the ground just a tad, and swinging about when it tried to walk up the tree as a way to get its feet off the ground.

it fucking hurt. above the chest was still a sore spot for pet. and it hurt. but when pet just let go and released itself to the rope and the pain, it felt wonderful. incredible. awesome. a rush. a fucking high like pet has not felt before. as Master prepared the next set of ropes He would use, pet went into fits of giggling. silly little high gigglies, random and without reason, other than the endorphins coursing through its bloodstream.

He did the legs next, up near the crotch. layerings of ropes. pet doesn’t know how to describe what He did in a technical sense. it might be leaving out integral safety steps that He took, but it just didn’t notice. it wasn’t able to comprehend what Master might be doing for pet’s safety at the time. and it couldn’t see half of what He was doing either, what with Him being behind it.

again, pain. pet bore it. pet soared. there were adjustments made. pet discovered that its voice does not carry well when it is high and hanging with its head pointing to the ground. but it was so hard to talk louder. so hard to understand what He could hear. so hard to hear at times. He would ask a question and pet would be mesmerized by a stalk of grass on the ground, reaching out to touch it, but unable to grasp it, physically or mentally (though perhaps reaching it on a spiritual level).

He told it later that there was a point where He asked it a question and it did not respond. no response. no reaction. hanging in the tree like a limp doll, a puppet with no one minding the strings. He slapped its arm a few times. and finally got a response. pet does not actually remember this incident.

there were more lines on the legs that helped pet. there was a point where it felt panic like it couldn’t breathe and wanted to get down NOW. He got it down as quickly as He could and once its feet were on the ground it felt better. better enough to go up again. a learning process. what works, what doesn’t work as well.

it all, really, works, because pet did get suspended and suffered no permanant injuries. just some really pretty rope bruises above the udders. yum.

it hurt. it felt wonderful. it got pet high for hours afterwards. and Master will do it again to His toi. next time with people watching.

pet thinks that it will be able to write about it more clearly when it has done it more times. had it done rather. it still feels aftereffects floating in its head. just the wonder of being held up by ropes, the trust in Master, to lean forward and fly off the ground.

thank You Master for a wonderful day, and a wonderful new experience.

“it doesn’t hurt me…”

the mind fuck. He made it cry. He broke past the barrier of its thoughts and its perceptions of reality. He took it somewhere it could never go on its own, that it wouldn’t know how to reach.

and it was good for pet. it didn’t harm pet. there is nothing about it that gave pet damage. hurt. He manipulated its mind for a desired effect, and pet believes He knows exactly what He wanted to happen, and that pet’s being followed Him precisely. He knows it.

it doesn’t hurt pet, no matter how much it might be crying, no matter how much it might look like this crazy ass shit going on is insane, pet loves it. loves Him. loves what it is, what it does and what is done to it. it doesn’t hurt pet.

“you wanna feel how it feels?”

pet can see it, in passersby, and in those who witness when Master scenes it more intimately. they look at the corsets, or they look at what He does to it merely by being, or by using it, and they yearn. yes, it is some fucked up shit. yes, it is some intense shit. yes, it is different, and can feel its differences with every step it takes further into the abyss.

but you still want to feel how it feels. a yearning. underneath all the exterior reactions is a yearning. feel how it feels. some want to feel how it feels, and some want to feel how it feels to have it. use it. two sides, two dimensional. up or down, left or right. a sliding yearning energy underpining every sniff, every eye, every derisive giggle and every smile.

“you want to know, know that it doesn’t hurt me”

how can you know other than by doing? Master knows that it doesn’t hurt pet. how does He know, and so many others have no ability to conceive it? pet knows, but pet knows from direct experience of its own self. others don’t know. but they want to know.

can it become an obsession? pet believes its first husband became so obsessed over wanting to be pet that he lost himself in the internet. busy masturbating because he was afraid to use the gorgeous creature to which he had, at the time, every right.

you want to know that it doesn’t hurt pet?

look in pet’s eyes. ask it a question. ask it about the most disgusting thing you’ve read about on this blog. and watch its eyes sparkle. watch its body tense in joyful sense memory of His touch. watch its love pour forth from its eyes, freely spilling love everywhere. because pet is full of love.

pet is full of love, because pet is a urinal, a fuck toi, a worthless cunt, an ass licker, Cock worshiper, slave, cum dump.

pet wore pants yesterday, and spent some time hanging around from a tree. the first foray into suspension was, in pet’s opinion, quite the success. and it has some lovely rope marks, and ideas churning away in its head. not to mention all the ideas it is sure are being spawned in Master’s head.

He pulled the needle quickly out of pet’s udder. but it was the stopping wire that prevents skin from going inside the needle as it penetrates. an oopsy, which Master corrected. the second time He pulled the six incher slid smoothly out. and there wasn’t all that much bleeding from the twin holes on either side of the udder.

blood was beginning to show more from where He had used the smaller needles to scratch at pet, their sharp edges biting into pet’s flesh, splitting it slowly. but no more gushing. just droplets building.

He then told pet to lay down. no underwear. just bare flesh.

“is pet ready? is My pet ready for this needle to go in the clitty?”

His fingers pointed out the split hood to her, and prodded the clit, pulling it free, squeezing it a bit. an alive clit. an aware clit. a scared pet.

did He mean it? was He really going to put a needle through the clit for reasons other than the piercing of it? fuck! no, no, please, fuck…

“no, no no no please no,” pet began to beg, please, not now, please don’t do this…

“pet isn’t ready for the needle to poke the clit like this?” He asked, poking the needle on its inner thighs in quick little strikes. “like this?” poke, “like this?” poke.

tears flowed, large and earnest, please, “please Master, no no no no,”

“don’t jerk, if pet jerks pet will regret it,” Master told it.

the world narrowed to holding itself still, not moving, preparing for the pain, believing the pain was almost here, coming closer and closer and pet couldn’t jerk, no no, be still, fuck, oh God, oh Master, please no…

a tiny prick. just a scratch of the surface. before He stood up and turned to her, telling her that that was a mind fuck.

Master had, without pet noticing, laid out needles. prepared everything He needed in order to fuck pet using needles… not in a literal sense of fucking. no, a BDSM fucking. the only kind of fucking that gets pet off. the only kind of sex that can give it the intensity and depth that it craves.

He had it strip and sit on the table. she was watching. eyes intent, smile fixed. but pet didn’t pay her all that much attention, it must admit. nor the others. its focus was narrowed to a tiny sharpened point of hollow metal. a glint, a gleam, not knowing where He would insert it exactly, or how. just knowing that He was about to violate its flesh.

He wiped one udder down with betadine and hydrogen peroxide. the needle in His hand, a small needle, relatively speaking, 22g and 1 and a half inches long… poking a little at pet’s flesh, its inheld breath breaking as He continued only to prod-

then, harder, a poke. a hard poke. directly into pet’s udder, on the outer edge of the areola. the first breaking of the skin a sharp pain, but, to pet’s surprise, it couldn’t feel the needle sliding deeper inside the udder. it could feel the barest hints of resistance as it slid past the opening in pet’s skin, but inside, deeply, nothing…

eyes glazing, pet stared at the protrusion of the needle end pulling at its flesh as it back slid just a little.

“look at her,” Master told it, and pet obediently showed her its eyes. how glassy and stoned pet was already getting. its arousal was evident by the smells emanating from Master’s cunt. pet couldn’t focus, pet couldn’t cognate, pet was floating on a wave of beautiful pain. and He gave it more.

another needle, and another and another. four in a cross shape around pet’s areola. pain from each but also pleasure. high. fuck. He went around behind pet, cradling the udder in His hand, squeezing gently, allowing pet the freedom to oragasm from the sensation, the intensity, the pain, the pressure, pet writhing in its sitting position on the table, leaning against His body for support as He cradled it and made it orgasm, made it look at her as it came from the needles violating its flesh.

He talked about how this is edge play for her benefit. to educate her. and pet mentioned that most people don’t stick them straight in, but instead stick them in and then out letting the tip stick out in a horizontal type placement. He then demonstrated the difference for her on pet’s udder.

that way actually hurt more than the perpendicular placement, especially the removal.

and then pet begged for more.

“please Master, please get out the big ones? please?” pet was too floaty to be eloquent, but its energy clearly described its eagerness for the larger needles. for more fucking.

and He granted pet’s wish. He got out the big motherfuckers. spinal needles. six inches long, the likes of which pet hadn’t seen for over a year penetrating its udder flesh. not since the birthday before last had Master used those needles.

He took one out of the box and showed it to her, asking if she knew where they went. whether she knew or not, she surely could guess, and did, correctly. they go through pet’s udders. or, in this instance, just through the one. one needle. one six inch spinal needle. to penetrate pet’s udder.

first, He removed the smaller needles. one at a time. looking at pet, making sure that it felt, anticipated and breathed as He plucked them out. one of them bled a lot, but pet didn’t notice until He said something. it was completely oblivious to the blood leaking down its tummy and onto its legs. it just didn’t matter. and when it saw it, it only mattered in that pet didn’t want to get the blanket that it was sitting on bloody.

it only had eyes for that six inch needle that was about to become pet’s very intimate lover. tensing for the pain. feeling the beautiful intimacy of Master sitting behind it, cradling its body as He inserted the needle. pain as it poked through the first barrier of skin. and that delicate sensation of the needle moving through, like the sound of a balloon being rubbed lightly, something almost squeaky but not, vibrating just a little. before it painfully popped out the other side. tenting the skin of the udder before making its exit.

it is so beautiful. the length of metal through pet’s udder. it makes pet cum. it is a lover. a fuck. a fuck for the body, that Master decided to top off with a fuck of pet’s mind…

as per a question from the chat box, pet is going to talk about the stun gun.

first of all, it would like to state what a stun gun is. for pet, it is an implement used for BDSM scening. a stun gun is a close up weapon, that requires contact with the skin (or pretty darn close to it). generally, a taser is a projectile weapon (also Taser is a brand name), wherein the skin is penetrated to administer the shock. that is not something that pet has used, or at this time, has interest in using. er, not something that has been used on it the stun gun that Master uses on pet is a small and handheld device. it is a 45,000 volt stun gun. if the aim is to drop an attacker, then the stun gun should be 1,000,000 volts, at least. also, before He uses it on pet, He lets it run in the air a bit on a fresh battery, to further lower the power. this is a safety concern.

the point of the stun gun, on pet, is not to immobilize or take it down. it is to shock pet. an electricity tool. and even with the battery run down, and a relatively low voltage to begin with, the feeling is definitely high intensity.

not just the actual physical feeling, but also the mental fuck, so to speak. after the first hit, the body tenses in reaction to the approach of the stun gun. so that when He presses it up against pet’s skin, it flinches, even when He doesn’t press the button. confusing its senses, feeling the cold metal prongs and no shock, then randomly, the shock comes, a poking snapping sensation.

the best way that pet can describe the actual physical sensation of being shocked by the stun gun, is like someone is snapping a rubber band hard against its skin, and in rapid succession. the stun gun makes a clicking noise that adds to the intensity, it is a ‘menacing’ noise, sinister almost. pet can hear the snappiness of it, and its skin remembers pain.

it hurts. oh yes, it fucking hurts. a crack across the flesh, a feeling of heat, losing sense of time. it is a different sensation if He runs it across its flesh, as opposed to pressing it against parts. the feeling is pretty much the same on tender bits like the clit or nipples as it is on legs. snap. click. pain. done. more?

pet has a love/hate relationship with the stun gun. it hurts. it fucking hurts. and it is so good. so hard not to beg for more. but so hard to beg for more. so hard to say, please do it again, when it fucking hurt, and it doesn’t want to see the damn stun gun ever again. but please…

it is a cruel lover. a relentless lover. one that fucks pet well. the muscles jerk, the mind cringes, and pet’s body is played well by the stun gun in Master’s hands.

it has never had any marks from the stun gun, nor other lasting effects (other than that love/hate relationship). it believes that if the stun gun leaves burn marks, it is either too high of a voltage or being used for too long of a time on one spot. but that is an opinion of pet’s and not a medical opinion.

when pet is physically with Master, it waits for Him to take the His first bite (at least), and then asks permission to being eating. only after He has given pet permission to eat, does it begin to eat.

that is pet’s protocol. a gift from Master, that He allows it to show its deep respect and love for Him in such a way. it loves, craves, needs to ask Him for permission to eat. if Master and pet are in a grocery store and there are samples, and Master gives pet permission to eat, but chooses not to partake Himself, pet has a moment of awkwardness of eating when Master has not taken a bite.

and it finds the same phenomenon happens at work, when Master is not around. pet typically has a midmorning snack of yogurt, both to keep its sugar levels up and to get the good active cultures working against its slight milk intolerance. and it gets the yogurt from the fridge, it opens it up and grabs it spoon.

and then it sits. hesitating. looking around. has Master eaten?

but Master is not there. sometimes there is a full blown mini-debate, wherein pet must remind itself that He wants it to eat, He wants it to remain a healthy pet, not an illfed sick pet that is more difficult to use. it has to eat, it has to eat lunch and its snacks, because Master wants it to eat. it is not practical to ask before eating at work, because Master might be busy and it has set times in which it is to eat, designated not only by work, but by its body.

though the doctors say there is nothing wrong with it as far as hypoglycemia or anything like that, it still gets messed up if it doesn’t eat enough. if pet doesn’t have at least a little something every four hours or so, it gets overly emotional, dizzy and sick feeling. it is not a good state; it leaves pet prey to monsters. easy pickings.

so pet must eat. and it does eat. usually after only a slight hesitation. but still. there is always that slight hesitation. that little stutter in the hand that brings the spoon to its lips. a small pause before swallowing. sometimes a head turn, to its right, is Master there? has He begun to eat?

it is just how pet is. one of the little quirks. a dependency, in a way, in that it craves Him, wants to see Him eating before it is allowed to bring nourishment to its body. for Him to be first in all things. that is the level that pet is at now. it cannot even imagine what the coming years might bring. . .

pet can’t help it.

it craves orgasm. it is being trained to do so. it experiences pleasures beyond its capability for which to find words. it was a good girl. so it was not punished. it was rewarded.

His hand went near His cunt. and pet began to hump. couldn’t help itself. couldn’t stop itself. complete surrender of control into His hand… barely able to comply when He told it to lift up, so that His other hand could attack pet’s cunt.

driving a finger inside, driving pet wild. it squirts for Him, feeling utter freedom in being trapped between His hands. and feeling so deliciously trapped to be caught by one hand on its clit and the other working fingers into its cunt. helpless little slut. cumming. and cumming. at His whim and will, as He changed speed or depth.

He pulls out the finger and makes it squirt more, lets pet taste its asscunt on His finger before inserting two, or three into pet’s wet cunt. driving them in and out, pushing, deeper and deeper. pet going feral, seeking nothing but more orgasms, lost in lust.

until He showed it Cock. already rampantly hard. and told it to lube Cock up. which it eagerly did, once it regained some control of its motor skills.

knowing. hoping. praying.

He told it to lie down flat. it had just enough presence of mind to put His soaking cunt squarely on top of the towel there for the purposes of preventing the bed from being soaked. and then it lay flat. and He slid Cock into pet’s cunt, smoothly. an almost unbearable pleasure. a tingling hint of pain. pet’s abilities for reason falling as it screamed and screeched. humping, fucking back, sucking Cock with its cunt. trying to be pleasing, and running out of energy, falling, collapsing, as He continued to use it. using its ruined asshole. the cunt of a little bitch.

it felt driven to faint, driven to black out, the intensity … how the fuck did it bear the intensity? how did it survive intact? how did it thrive? thrive on the pain, the intense pleasures, the violation of its shit hole by Cock.

that is what it is.

a slut with an asscunt for pleasure.

it has no idea how long He fucked it. it was squirting whenever it had the energy to hump back, when it worked for its orgasms. it had never before squirted from just Cock inside its cunt, only when there was something else in conjunction, such as Master biting its ear. but it did this time. fucking squirted hard.

He pulled out and it scrambled to clean Cock, hoping, praying to be fed His cum. sucking lovingly, worshipping reverently. making sure that all of its nasty ass juice, and the juices from His cunt, were cleaned off of Cock.

no feeding of the pet. He allowed it to clean up and collapse to sleep. drained. well fucking fucked.

but the real trip is the next day, thinking of that fuck at work, pet had a small orgasm, just from the memory of His taking it and using it like the little fucktoi it is.