He watched in wonder as it came to him. He never tired of watching it, as it moved, as it stood, as it slept, as it served and suffered. His fascination only grew over time, every day was a revelation, a new surprising discovery of the pleasure and entertainment that his property was capable of providing. No, not just capable, but eager and desperate to provide.
He watched, not just enjoying the delightful display but also studying with intensity, appraising every detail of its appearance, assessing every movement. Were it’s nipples erect, brushing the floor at exactly the right depth? Did its tits, hanging beneath it, sway in matching, simultaneous rhythm? Were the fingers of each hand spaced exactly and evenly when placed on the floor?
His expectations were demanding and precise, and he had invested countless hours instilling them into his property through exhaustive repetition, harsh punishment and, when earned, even reward. He reflected momentarily on what had been accomplished, the lump of clay he had taken possession of and molded, sculpted through patience, discipline and hard work into the exquisite creature before him.
He acknowledged to himself as it drew closer, finally reaching the designated spot at the precise distance from him and assuming the expected position, that his creation would not have been possible but for the innate need in his property to serve, to please and become owned property. He noted the barely perceptible trembling beneath it’s flesh, like a rubber band pulled taut and ready to spring forth, while reflecting on the almost supernatural depth of its need from the very beginning. It had been like a dry sponge, soaking up every demonstration of control, every opportunity to serve and still craving more.
The craving, the insatiable need had been evident not only due to its begging and mewling, but also in the perpetual glistening moisture that coated the insides of its thighs from hip to knee, the near constant pulsing and spontaneous clenching of its hole producing a steady, slow drip day and night. It had been demonstrated every time it was allowed to make physical contact with him. He often amused himself by making it wait, centimeters away from touching him, trembling in anticipation, straining against an invisible barrier like a dog on a leash, its chest heaving with breaths of anticipation and, often, its tongue hanging and literally dripping. He had realized from the beginning that these reactions were completely subconscious and he never tired of watching it simultaneously turned crimson and pant harder when he pointed them out.
But most obvious to him, and most satisfying by far, was the complete and utter worship of him that exuded from its every pore. This pitiful, lowly creature, this object, his toy, held him in awe. Like a diety, he was the object of its reverence and complete devotion. Its adoration infused every word it spoke, every movement, every thought in its head. Not only was it completely and utterly his, in every possible way, but it sought tirelessly to make itself even more his, some how, some way, never satisfied. It devoted its entire being to always serving more, pleasing better, to cast itself repeatedly and eagerly into the fire of his total control and pleasure.
It had reached him. It waited. It wanted. And he watched, and was pleased.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/g5n559/vignette_ii_mf_ds
It floated. Circumstances had contrived such that it had not felt its Master’s magnetic pull, his irresistible force, for several days. At first, the circumstances were pressing enough that it had purpose, enough momentum to carry on in its orbit, and so it didn’t notice the lack… too badly.
But now, with barriers beginning to be cured, symptoms beginning to dissipate, it began to feel aware of itself, alone in the void. Aware of its feeble powers of self-determination. Conscious of its lack of a true magnetic North. Excruciatingly alive to the fire burning, always burning at her core, but previously was kept banked and fed and modulated all at once by the hand, the Will, of its Master.
So, it was alone, floating. Longing for the careful yet brutal nudges and thrusts and corrections of its Master, the expert in the ballistics calculations that ensured her long-term survival. Waiting. Hoping. Needing.