Desperation

My Master had no way of knowing what he would be unleashing when he claimed me and opened me up. The day I gave him my control it had been over 10 years since last I’d cum for someone else. In that time I’d silenced my sex, submerged my passions, killed my desires out of a desperate self preservation. That which I’d decided I didn’t need I couldn’t therefore miss. My only release had become erotic fiction online, and even that pleasure was a darkly held secret that I was terrified would be found out.

I’d assured myself, and anyone else foolish enough to ask, that I was just fine without such indulgences in my life. The truth was I was dying. I’d relish those rare moments when I enjoyed the lingering touch of another, even though those were always platonic. I felt sealed off from the rest of the population. I felt encased in steel. I felt numb.

But now, though I’m so happy to enjoy contact again, I’m afraid Master has unleashed a beast that even he could not have foreseen.

I wake every morning with my Master on my mind. I imagine him over me, his strong hands pushing my wrists into my pillow and his evil grin dripping down into me. And I am wet. Constantly. For My Master I am slick between my legs always. I was bone dry for a decade and this is amazing to me because I’ve not had a single dry day since he found me. For months now my natural, constant state is damp panties and creamy cunt. I simply cannot get enough of him at any time. Even after all the months that I’ve been his the sound of his ring tone or the tiny hiss showing that he’s logged on to chat still give me butterflies like the first day he possessed me. And still, and always, and forever I am wet.

There was a time I worried that Master would grow tired of a slave who is always like an eager puppy, waiting for him to initiate play. I enjoyed the humiliation of being unable to control my lust, but knew that such constant pleading eyes and heavy voice could grow old after a while. But now I know that Master likes knowing he need never wonder if I am “in the mood.” I am his for the taking at any time, always three seconds from being his panting, moaning slut.

Just like a good slave should be.