Mental Worship of a Superior Woman
“What are you, slave?”
“Nothing, Mistress Göttin.”
“What am I?”
“Everything, Mistress Göttin.”
“Why are you here?”
“To give myself to you, Mistress Göttin.”
“What do you give me?”
“My body and mind. Heart and soul, Mistress Göttin.”
“You give without reservation, stipulation or condition?”
“I surrender all that I am and can be, Mistress Göttin.”
“Why do your give yourself to me?”
“Merely a man, my only value is serving superior being. Serving you, Mistress Göttin.”
“I accept your gift.”
“Thank you, Mistress Göttin. I will be a good slave.”
She slapped him.
“Did I ask your opinion?
“No Mistress Göttin.”
“What are you?”
“Property, a chattel, Mistress Göttin.”
“You have passed below submission, beneath slavery. You are a thing, an object.”
She grabbed his head. Pulled it to her so swiftly that her strap-on dildo slammed against his lips. Opening his mouth, it banged against the back of his throat.
She pummeled him. He gagged. She stopped.
His eyes were damp. His fear obvious. Nothing is more beautiful than a terrified man, she thought.
She gestured, pointing to bags of dog food and jugs of yellow liquid. His new diet. No longer human, eat would not eat human food.
“This is my temple. Here you will worship and pray. Only when your prayers are so intense that I hear them in my mind, will I return to release you.”
He became even more beautiful.
“If your prayers are true, I will know even at a distance.”
Before he could respond, the door shut. The locked clicked. He was alone.
Bowing his head until his forehead touched the floor, he groveled. He tried to beam pure worship at his Mistress Owner’s mind.
Irrelevant thoughts kept interfering. What did the dog food taste like? Was the yellow fluid Mistress Göttin’s urine?
Already lonely, his prayer was for her return. An itch distracted him. Constant prayer eluded him.
Would she let him starve to death? He must pray harder.
Mistress Göttin did not believe in telepathy.
She looked forward to the next month. How well would her object cope with thirty days of silent isolation?
Imaging his increasing desperation, she laughed.