Slave Think

Master commanded: No panties today at work. 

As a good slave she obliged happily; though not certain for she has never gone without panties before especially at work. 

But the stimuli of the possibility of being seen as she bends over, the sensation as her scrubs' bottoms abrase her pussy lips. 

This slave is so wet she wonders is her slutty juices can be seen by her coworkers. Can they hear her heightened heartbeat. Do they see her flush cheeks? 

She is so aroused she is in a haze as she works through her daily responsibilities. Can the males here smell this slave...is she that exposed?

She hopes so, for this slave is an Exhibitionist. She love being seen. 

This day seems to be filled with brimming possibilities. And this slave is so excited. 

As she gets wetter and wetter...she hopes that her arousal will bring her Master Pleasure. 

-Pandaish

This slave is a dirty whore. A dripping slut who wants to be used; a needy streetwalker in need of a John. 

She wants to be passed around and used. She desires to be pumped full of cum and covered in the sweat of effort. A marathon runner at the end of a first place race. 

This slave knows what she is. Who she is. She is her Masters sex slave. She gets pleasure from his pleasure, his desires fulfilled. She lives to fulfill his wishes. 

She wishes to be his whore. She wants to make him proud of how much of a slut she is and the fact that this slave is his to play with, his to control. 

This slave needs to be used as the entertainment during the house party. She wishes to be the house slave. Serve her Master and guests drinks, bring them a joint, suck their rock hard cock.

Please Master, this slave begs of thee, let her be the whore she is. Let her be a fucking slut. She desires to make others want her only to have you remind her and them that she belongs to you and only you. My Master. 

Let this dirty whore of a slave be who she truly is. Let her be a dirty whore. 

-Pandaish

There is serenity in ignorance; a soul searching for Agartha, a paradise where the gods reside. An oasis in the desert; mirages echo your desires. 

In ignorance is fear; unsure of the unknown you fight. A lepord in a corner fighting for its life as its 'hunters' only wish to free its trapped leg. A dark figure following you as you go to your car.

In fear is my soul; like a lost light in the darkness, I searched for my Serenity. Trial and error I  searched for Him. The person with whom I could become whole. 

In my soul is not my Master. He is God above me. Protective and righteous he sees all thoes who wish to manipulate and harm. He is a wolf protecting his mate. 

In my Master is Serenity. Like the lights that dance as you close your eyes he is the warmth that cascades over my entire being. I am His and I am safe. He is my Master. 

-Pandaish

A twilight dream starts as any other. A feeling.

I was nothing, a whore with no purpose, I was wild. He tamed me and all I want is to serve him now and forever. 

There he was; just there and looking straight at me; my body wasn't what he was staring at though. No. He was looking straight at my soul; this small little flame, melancholy and pride, he sees all of me. 

I kneel, a wonder of service. As I settle on my heels and my knees apart wide and my hands rest on my warm soft thighs as I openly display what I have to offer to him. Eyes respectfully downcast. 

Would he accept me, am I enough? 

His hand trails along my shoulders, shivers cascade down my body; an avalanche running down the slopes of my body, settling deep inside my core.

"You may rise." His voice drawls, lazily and dangerous. 

As I do so I can see his eyes widen a little as he can see my full body now front facing and on display. A smirk rests on his face, delectable and sinful.

"Give us a little turn sweetheart, show them what a horny little slut you are." He breathes into my ear. 

As I spin slowly I can see movement just out of the lights reach, but if I focused, it seemed like men. A few of them. I hear buckles and zippers and Master chuckles at the frightened bunny look that I am positive is plastered all over my face. 

"You are going to help please some of Masters friends tonight, aren't you pet?" He said loudly enough for the others can hear, I wimper in desire. 

"What do we say?" He growls as he roughly grabbed my chin. 

"Yes Master, I am here to serve all your friends." I moan.

As they approach, I can feel the air in the room shift from still to electric. A bolt of lightning that shakes the earth where is kisses the ground. The light disappears as a blind fold of silk robs me of my sight. 

The first hand, one I know like my own heart, my Master. It squeezes my shoulder, reassuring me that I am going to be alright. He is there to protect me.

The second hand cups my right breast, smaller in size and cooler to the touch. It is gentle but as it roughly pinches my nipples I know that they are holding back. 

The third on my thigh, it's hot and they have longer nails. I can feel them digging into the soft flesh on my inner thigh causing me to shiver with delight. 

A fourth? I can no longer tell how many hands there are. They are everywhere. A large hand is grasping at my waist, a smaller one is playing with my clit. A pair is abusing my left breast and another set is rubbing their cock on my face and lips telling me to kiss it. My Master. I would know his scent anywhere. 

I happily oblige as I loose myself to lust. I reach out my hand and Master grabs it. A strong grip suffocated my silent panic instantly. 

Then, I awoke to my alarm. Shaken and aroused. 

Welcome to the dreams of a horny little slut slave. 

-Pandaish

The board is polished; cherry and aspen in a methodic pattern. The hibiscus' blush as the morning suns rays kiss its outreached petals. 

My move; a friendly bounce of movement. A black bumble bee hovering from bloom to bloom, occasionally catching themselves from a burst of wind. 

Their move; an interested curiosity. A panther lazily looking at a bunny wonder within its gaze, it's fur warmed by the heat of the jungle, steam rising off a leaf.

My move; a child presenting their drawing. A deep story behind the wiggles and and smears of color. The wind over a corn field in the middle of the Tennessee afternoon.

A jump; you lost a token.

My move; a honest dog in the doorway asking for you to toss the ball. My tail wags as you take it from my mouth; red like an apple on the counter in the fruit bowl in the morning. 

You were looking for a pomegranate.

And a minx. 

Your move; a cold steel shelf. Smooth and empty of the books it once held. The ocean as the store rolls in grey and almost rumbling like low growl. 

Hop, king, double hop.

My move; a tentative brush on on empty canvas. No form or destination for its bold hue. Crimson as life itself; the poppy in the field surrounded by birds eyes. 

Your move; a short blade, sharp and clean. A shark in the water, a calculating machine of apathy. A frozen jab. 

My move; in shock i am puzzled. A wondering soul lost on the street, searching for any reason why. An ugly duckling lost by a puddle, sodden and melancholy. 

Your move. 

My move; I scramble to make you like me again as my complex demands. An addict in search of her next fix. Colored by the street lights I posture; a pose, on offer. 

My move. I choose not to message again, in fear of being seen as needy. A small survivor in the corner afraid of what everyone thinks of her who stands up regardless.

Hop. Hop. King me. Hop. Hop. 

My move. 

Hop.

I win. 

-Pandaish

On my knees, legs spread, palms upward resting on my thighs to the sun. It's rays kisses my bare skin like a breeze through a field of grass; with a swish the blades sings a gentle lullaby.

My back straight and then arched, a bead of sweat rolls down my spine. A sensual silhouette. My face forward, held high and confident; eyes castdown in respect; a small smirk on my full lips, a velvet touch. My breasts a soft handful of creamy weight. 

My breath hitches as he enters the room. On full display in my lust, I crave him. I can sense his eyes on me. Feasting on my exposed form causing my heart rate to climb. My breasts move with the effort of my breathing.. his eyes zero in on my dusty rose nipples. 

I need his touch. I need him to use me. He circles me; a bunny rabbit in the corner shuddering as the wolf salivates at his catch. He licks his lips...a shiver runs from my lips to my heated core; a chain of fire that he holds the lead of. 

His eyes consume my body, his strong hand reaches for my face, he cups my cheek and I melt into his touch; a hot spring as I sink into its depths. 

He pulls my eyes to look onto his. Thoes grey pools pulling my soul to the bottom. I feel like I could get lost in thoes pools. A sweet surrender of serene simplicity. 

After he has had his fill I am dismissed, and I have passed his inspection once again. My heart leaps at the pleasure in his eyes. My submission more pleasing then any sexual act I could ever preform. 

As I rise he grabs my curls and whips me over the bed. My ass exposed he give me three firm swats onto the sensitive flesh. Burning red I cry out in pleasure and pain. My center flooding like a floodgate. 

His chuckle makes my heart just again and he plunges his cock deeply into my hot flesh. The motion so sudden that it lights the fire that was idle in my core. I cry out consumed by pleasure as he uses me to relax; his fist wrapped in my curls a vice of the best type. 

I feel my center filling with pressure... it's coming... I am coming. He pulls harder at my hair pulling my back to his chest as he thrusts as deep as he dared.  

His lips lock on the place where my neck meets my shoulder. His teeth makes a sensual pressure. I can feel the pressure of his mouth, marking me for all to see. 

He bites down and I cry out as I climax for the second time as he fills me to the brim with his seed. My body shakes with aftershocks of pleasure. He puts his hand around my neck, his cock still inside me. 

"You are mine," he growls into my ear. 

This is why I submit, his pleasure is my pleasure. I live to serve my Master. He is my whole world. He is my God. And I am his faithful deciple.

-Pandaish

There is a certain level of safety in a collar; basking in the sun on Sunday afternoon a gentle breeze flowing though your hair, cooling the sweat forming at the base of you neck. 

Content with longing is a state of being for one such as myself. Like a serene lake; the water reflecting the majestic sky as a mirror; the earth cries to the sky, trees are her arms reaching for her love. 

As a slave, my spirit flies as Icarus, free as a bird on the tailwind of the ocean as if the sea mist itself was holding my soul high above the ground. 

The only thing keeping me from flying to close to the sun and loosing my wings;  My Master who awaits for me on that lush moss covered ground reminding me that I don't always have to fly so high. I can relax in a state a being with him by my side.

On that cool ground I feel peace, home in his arms. His claim on you, around your neck like his hands would be the moment you asked. You are his in your entirety. 

And when I choose to fly again. I have a tether to that place; a cord of silver and steel. A delicate thread of who I am. This collar tells me I am safe to be free encouraged to grow. And I never have to be afraid because he is always there. My wonderful shadow. 

My Master. 

-Pandaish

When I make dinner; jasmine rice fluffy as the clouds on a hot June afternoon. Curried pork with carrots and potatoes; ElDerado in a sauce pan. I imagine his hand on the fork his strong fingers each as they wrap around the handle. 

Would he enjoy this meal? Would he become excited for the next meal I may make him? The sheer pleasure I would get from watching him go back for the next bite. 

When he looked at me; with that gaze I have yet to see. Thoes eyes certainly decerning in any other occasion, soften in pleasure. The kind of pleasure you can only get from a full and sated tummy. 

Imaging that gaze makes chills ripple down my arms and coil into my center. Would his lips turn up into a smile? Would he lick his lips? To tantalizing...the movement demanding my attention. 

All I desperately want is to please my Master in every aspect I can. Cooking meals for him is only a small part of how I could service my Master. 

As I stir my curry, I wonder, would my Master enjoy this dish? 

I have this fantasy...if you will. A vivid image that has, on more then one occasion, invaded my brain in the most inconvenient of times; at work, in the pharmacy drive through, at the dmv waiting in line. 

It always startes the same. A dark room lined in deep purple satin; like a plum waiting to be plucked from the tree. Drapes and tapestries depicting erotic sights between men and women. This room was dimly lit by old gas lanterns.

The shadows flickering about like dancing fey; if I got to close I might be swept away to their realm where I would be drowned in sinful spirits to make me forget who I was. 

The floor was a cool hardwood with a dark sheen to it. Almost like oil mixed with blood. As I circle this room of luxury, the door to the right wiggles. This door black and heavy. You can tell it is solid wood, firm and unyielding. 

As the handle turns, brass and worn; creaking with effort from the grip that holds it. Who will be on the other side? 

I froze..like a rabbit in the sight of a wolf lost in his carnal gaze; falling into the ocean as the bubbles swirl around me. 

As he rushes into the room, this unknown man, his face always blurry, his body hard and lean. The ivory sheen on his skin warns me that he was in a dark state of mind and I was to react in kind. 

Then I realized, he was not alone, three other men come in flanking the first, one lean and cut and the other a larger frame with a beard and one large and silent in the back. The musk from these very dominant men swirling around me like a spell constricting my throat making it hard to breathe, yet I must inhale their scent more. 

I feel my lust take hold my eyes become glassy, my sight unfocused. I feel the first man's hands on me, rough and calloused. The trail of heat his fingers leave behind cause gooseflesh to rise on their wake. 

I felt as though I was going to climax there and then but I felt another set of hands on me. On my back pulling the straps of my lingerie down my left shoulder, my right. 

As the silk slides down my body, the third joins this menagerie of flesh. So many hands, every inch of my flesh is burning. This heat almost to much to bare. 

The fourth sits back and grins an evil smirk. A promise of pain and pleasure to come, clad in all black he cracks his nuckles an echo throughout the room like a roar. 

"Please," I beg, not caring at all what I would seem like in thoes moments. Here in this room with these strangers. The goddess is working tonight, for I can feel myself desperately need to be filled. That is the only thing that would quell this fire. 

Vividly I can see and feel;

every touch,

every hand,

every finger,

every whip,

As our bodies move together in a sensual rhythm, intoxicatingly numbing my mind. I am not a person anymore. I am an empty vessel that needs to be filled. I am an animal in heat, I am a spirit of lust incarnate.

Everytime I have this thought, when most inconvenient, I have to calm my heart rate. If man could scent me as an animal all male eyes would be on me in an instant. 

I have what you call a breeding kink you see. It's not outrageous or insane, but it is one thing for sure. It will not be quelled without being filled and given a new life inside me. I need this you see for I have a breeding kink. 

-Pandaish

Valentines day isn't for me. It is for lovers who are still floating on cloud nine; soaring through the wipped cream vapor, strawberries and cigarettes in the air. 

What I want isn't what lovers do. I want to be ravished. I want to be treated like an object; unafraid of tomorrow, no thoughts. Mindlessness in its purest form. 

I want to be strapped down and made to forget. My heart shaped ass to be beating with the heat of pain. Make me as red as this holiday demands. 

This holiday is for tender touches and languid strokes. What I need is rough; choke me to silent the cry our neighbors definitely heard. Tears smearing my mascara and red eyeliner. 

I need to be broken, used and abused I want nothing more then the dead lead feeling in my limbs as I gasp for the oxygen my brain can't process; like mush from overstimulation.

Valentines day is for thoes who are so wholly dedicated to one another, to love and to hold; to show they love like the saffron sky aglow.

Kneeling here I am, dripping in lust as a beast salivates over a fresh kill. As red as rage my cheeks are flush, my heartbeat is quickened. 

And all I want is my Master.. to look at me to acknowledge me. I crave to be in his presence. I crave to be his for a day. 

-Pandaish