Mindspace

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

Like looking through red lensed glasses; my lust is a warm hue. Sleeping like a kitten next to a fire, the flame warming my fur in a pleasant laze. 

Streeetch it reaches out; searching for that muscle relief, relax it grows aware, focus coming to my opening eyes; color takes shape, texture and shade bleed into contrast. 

At rest she waits, as the dawn kisses the morning dew on the daisy petal. Prismatic and yet contained in a single drop of concentrated element. 

A hand on her jaw, warm and strong; knees raw from the ware of a point. The burn of the fiber beneath a pleasant friction. 

Pressure around her throat, stopping the moan from escaping; a whisper of pleasure leakes from her soul, a silent plea for more. 

Leather against her breast; her tips hardening, reaching out in longing. The soft abrasion overwhelming her senses. 

The heat growing within, arousing the beast resting. Feral it claws its way to the surface, unafraid to be its natural self; raw and untamed it calls out for its Master. 

-Pandaish 

Patience is the brook in a wildflower field; it's gentle dribble a lullaby. The warm spring sun that kisses your skin as the breeze that keeps away the burn. 

Patience is the harmonious mixture of love and discipline; the stern mentor who drives you to become the best human being you can possibly become. 

Patience is the willingness to grow like the tulip in spring; a cascade of colors cover the ground like a carpet of dreams, their velutinous petals covering the ground. 

Patience is my Master like a 500 year old redwood he stands unmoving. Stoic and impassive; He is this wall that blocks all the bad of the world from me. 

Patience is what I am learning, the gratification of the long game is so delectable. Sweeter then a fat red strawberry freshly picked and hot from the sun. 

Patience is the satisfying end to a long book. All the twists and turns, the tragedy and love; the smell of old paper in your nose. 

As the rain falls, there is a feeling that overcomes; an intense longing, slowly growing as the drop races down the window. 

As the clouds lazily drift across the sky; ice cold breeze like deaths breath on your neck. Not even the birds sing on this dreary day. 

This moment; small, miniscule, and lonely, is just as enlightening. Father time must have a sense of humor for he knows how to laugh at my pain. 

The greyscale colors melding into black. I grow cold from the effort. The constant trials and tribulations, when will I rest?

It hurts to breathe; the pain brings tears to my eyes and I thank the heavens for its cover, hiding the tears the fall from my cheeks. 

In that long, slow moment, as the tears run down my face, I can feel them approaching; Like rabid dogs in the shadows, their snarls, their hunger is more then I can bare. My misery like ambrosia to them. 

Thats small candle flame is there always; in the background is hovers. The more I focus on it, the more of its warmth I can feel. Replacing the longing with much needed content. 

This flame, though far away is always so bright. I walk, run, trip and fall, desperately reaching out; save me. 

On thoes days, when I have fallen, it comes to me. So intense it hurts my dark adapted eyes, blinding me to all the shadows at the edge of my view. 

That flame is my Master; He reminds me my journey isn't done yet. This is not where I stop. And as I reach out to touch that brilliant heat it moves away. 

"Master!," I gasp,"Why do you back away so?" Distraught I inquire. 

"To remind you that you are strong and don't need my help. To tell you that your journey isn't over. I am here to guide you, soon you will be strong enough to touch me. For now you must keep moving." 

Strength; he is the embodiment of this. Serene and calm he shows me the way. He is power, He is intensity. He is everything I want to be shielded underneath. 

So I must look through the tears, through the feeling of loneliness and keep going. For when I finally reach that flame, my Master, perhaps then I will be able to bare its inferno. For now, it is too intense, I would be consumed. 

Someday...I will reach him. Someday I will be able to handle Him in His entirety.

For now, I will continue to walk, run, trip and fall, desperately trying to reach that flame; My Master. 

-Pandaish

When I am sick.. I don't want to be a good little slave. I don't want to submit, I don't want to be obedient. 

I want to be little. I want to be taken care of. I desperately want head pats and snuggles. I want to be swallowed in a swirl of pastels and stuffies. 

I want to get lost in the world of Saturday morning cartoons and blanket forts. I want to be told to take medicine and to drink water. 

When I am sick, I regress. I decided that sick and an adult is too hard, so I'll wait for Master to come home and become Doctor Daddums. 

God, I feel like I am dying. My head hurts and I just want to drink water, but my body won't hold anything down.

Here I wait for Daddums to get home..  so I can be little once more. Even if just for a while. 

-Pandaish 

I am a doll, here to bend at your will please use me how ever you see fit. 

Wetter then the Bahamas on a hot summer day, I shiver as your eyes feast on my every curve. 

As I move to you, crawling like the slut I am. I wonder if today will be the day I am used until I cannot stand any longer. 

He makes me shoot another double, when will the world start making sense. When will I become split anew and become what I truly am inside. 

All I want is to be mindless, used until I cannot be used anymore. I cry at the pressure; I moan through the pain. 

Make me forget the horrors of my past. Make me focus on the now, on the pleasure, on the agony. 

Make me drool for you. Desperate to please; I lay at your feet, nothing but a fucking whore. Filling with the haze of heat.

Like a wonton little bitch, I swallow anything you put into my throat; your fist tightening around my throat in pleasure. 

Make me your toy Master. For all I can think about of you and your power over me. And it makes me want to melt into you, forever lost in the mist of ecstasy. 

I beg you Master. Shine your light on to me once more for I am nothing but your little slave. And you are my God, my whole world.

-Pandaish 

There are some things that touch us in our souls. The sound of sandlewood in my ears; warm like the embrace from the sun; setting in the hills, sunlight breaking through the branches. 

In our memories, there are flavors that remind us of home. The bite of sea salt taffy in my cheeks; the mist of the ocean on my face as the chill of the wind whips my curls, too and fro.

Sometimes we see something, our hearts bursting with joy. A baby; being held by its mother so much love in her eyes it could spill over like a rainy Sunday. 

On days when we just can't help but smile like a fool. The foggy memory of His laugh. A small chuckle that means more then the entire world in that moment.  

When His touch is enough to send you over the edge. The cusp of an explosion; humming with the anticipation on the release of His maddening rhythm. 

Senses are overwhelming my whole body, mind and soul. When it becomes to much the world seems like it is in a dark corner of the room; neglected and hopless, consumed with umbra all around.

There is my Master. He owns my soul, he owns my mind, he owns my body. He is my God. He is my Sun. My worries are His as my desires are His. 

I am His to use and love. Like a favorite pet or person, I want to be at His feet forever. Peace is the very center of my place; submissive I kneel as I surrender. 

-Pandaish