i don't mean with this that she's somehow unreachable. On the contrary, i've had every chance to serve my owner and i never took full advantage of it. Too many questions in my vanilla head, too much confusion and issues that needed to be solved. She let me go everytime i felt those obstacles coming upon me, heavy like a mountain. And everytime i went away my owner had to suffer a particular punishment from her Owners. In every one of those occasions she was confident that i'd return, because she knows i'm addicted to her.

Whenever she addresses to me, i feel small and vulnerable. She speaks with authority, knowing very well the exact effect that her words will have in me. My feelings are a mix of fear, admiration and respect. Of course, she can afford to make such a splendorous display of POWER. Because of her slave condition, she has a lifetime backing her knowledge of the submissive mind and body. She also understands the trappings of a Dominant mind, not only thanks to that of her Master, but also thanks to the acquaintance with the Dominant minds with which she has interacted over half a century.

But then, when my owner speaks, i can feel her immensely seductive hot breath in my ear, close to my mouth, ravaging my brain with suggestions of torture and hints of what's in store for me. It's as if i can picture her with me, in the same room. i'm naked and kneeling down, and tough my head is looking down, bowing out of respect, i can sense her eyes looking intently to me, relishing her triumph over my mind while she licks her gloating lips. Every encounter with my owner is always an opportunity for her to let off the steam of the violence that is involved in her own submissive life. So, whenever i meet her in our private chatroom, i know that there's a wealth of filth and sadism that will be poured over me, for that is my function, to serve my owner and help her quench her thirst for filth.

i doubt that i'd ever get used to that, but somehow i always manage to overcome my fear and offer my flesh at her request, so my owner can eat any part of the pig that she owns. She may cook it slowly in the oven of her wicked mind, or just quickly roast it with abuse, and then throw me in a corner, covered in sweat, trembling and thoroughly raped, inside out.

Yes, i need my owner, badly. Our lives are intertwined. She somehow represents for me every single filthy act, thought and word that i've made, thought or said in my own lifetime. She walks the earth with determination, with the elegance of a predator, but she crawls also, like a snake, leaving a trail of desire and perversion.

And god knows that i'll drink until the last drop of her venom.

Thank you for owning me. Thank you for teaching me. Thank you for all your patience, owner maso.

pigmeat