You are my purpose

There are days, when the longing is so consuming and the ache inside is so strong, that tears dampen my eyes and I am driven to distraction.  There is nothing I can do to lessen the craving, my attempts merely fuel it.  It is more than a need to satisfy a desire, it is a need to be completely owned by you.  I am adrift in meaninglessness, my only purpose is in your pleasure.  It is not your touches or my own physical release that I seek, it is your dominance, your presence, your control.  It is not accomplished by force and show, you are very subtle in your use of me.  Your fingers clamped on my nipple, your hand at my neck, your fist wrapped in my hair, sometimes my cue is a touch so light and gentle it is barely felt.  Your commands of me are just as concise.  Few words, softly spoken, "open", "suck harder", "be still", "tell me", "cum now".  Yet, it is your look that makes my heart skip a beat, not exactly a reprimand, but it bores into me and stops me in my tracks.  It makes me shut up mid-sentence and demands complete and immediate submission. 

You are my meaning, my reason, to serve you and give to you all that I can give.  My reward is your use and ultimately your pleasure.  Feeling you move me and position me to your satisfaction.  Servicing you with my hands and my mouth.  Being devoted to you, as your slut and your pet.  Sinking deeper and deeper into my submission as your presence washes over me and encompasses me.  Craving the marks of your use and possession, needing the sting of your hand and your belt that signifies your acceptance of me.  Hoping for and dreading the bite of the cane and the smack of the brush.  Longing for and savoring everything you give me, from the way you expertly make orgasms spring forth from me and the sweet flood of your cum in my mouth, to your hot piss running over me.  I luxuriate in your nearness, curling up next to you with delight and contentment.  When you are here, all is right in the world.

But when you leave, before you even pull from the driveway, it begins again.  That ache, that need.  I become an addict, counting the minutes until my next fix. Watching, waiting and hoping, for your voice, for your text, for your next visit.  For my chance to greet you, serve you, adore you.  I really am your pet, counting time til her owner's return.