I was touching myself a moment ago and I didn’t climax because I didn’t need to. But it’s so amazing to say the words, “My hand is making your dick feel so good, Mistress.” They become true and I understand that I should never imagine anyone else, except maybe Mommy every now and then. I feel so much that I belong to you and — this is really great — I feel that I spill my cum at the alter to your pussy. I call myself your mindless cunt slave. I love worshipping your pussy, Mistress. It gives me a sense of purpose, of identity even. I want so bad for you to claim my ass. It’s so yours, I’m so yours, I’m so completely yours. It would feel so natural to be drawn through life by your pussy, not in a sexual sense, but . . . .maybe you know. I can’t think of another way to phrase it. To have it draw me through the decisions I make to be close to you. I’ll get back to trying to lance my balls with your dick so I can spill an offering of cum at the alter of your pussy. Please don’t be too weirded out by this. It’s not some dark perversion. It’s a joy. My body feels to so perfectly fit into the world around me and my soul feels like a prisoner inside it. But as the reality of my cunt worship takes hold, there is only bliss and understanding that it is so — that I am in fact worshipping your pussy and, in doing so, I commune with perfection, the literal subjugation of myself to your vagina.
