Haze
by Pan
Kate’s mind was hazy when she awoke.
She didn’t even notice anything unusual about it. Partially because...well, because of the haze. When your mind is blurry, it’s harder to notice anything. Even—or perhaps especially—that your mind is blurry.
But mostly because she always felt like this. For as long as she could remember (not that she spent a lot of time remembering), Kate’s life had been a blur. A fog.
It didn’t bother her. Very little bothered her. That’s the benefit of living in a haze; you don’t have to worry. You don’t have to care about things.
Well, there was one thing that Kate cared about. There was one thing that Kate cared about very much.
It wasn’t work. She still worked hard; she oversaw a team of almost a dozen people. None of them, if asked, would have guessed that she spent her days in a fog. If anything, they would have complimented her acuity. She didn’t miss a thing—in fact, over the last year she’d earned a fearsome reputation for her attention to detail.
She didn’t care. None of it mattered. Even as she scanned over documents, highlighting every typo or incorrect figure, she wasn’t thinking. No matter how complex the task, it was just mindless busywork to Kate. Everything was.
Everything except sex.
During the pandemic, her entire team had moved to remote work. Lots of Zoom calls, lots of virtual meetings and Slack threads.
What her team didn’t know was that Kate attended every meeting with a toy buzzing between her legs. No matter how professional her top, how perfectly-applied her haircut, she was pantless, a remotely-controlled vibrator buried deep within her wetness.
She never gave a hint of it. Even if she came in the middle of a sentence, her eye never twitched, her voice never wavered. She was the image of professionalism, even as her mind was foggy, her cunt quivering in orgasm. Even as her nipples hardened and the seat of her chair got wet with her juices.
Her team noticed nothing. Because she didn’t give any indication that anything was different.
As soon as five o’clock hit, Kate logged off. Her bosses didn’t mind; when she was on, she gave a thousand and ten percent. She didn’t need to work late.
As soon as the workday was over, Kate closed her laptop, removed her clothes, closed her eyes, moved one hand between her legs, and began to chant.
“I am a toy. I am Master’s plaything. I exist for Master’s pleasure.”
She’d said the words so often that they’d lost all meaning. She’d spent so many hours, day after day, the words were imprinted on her soul. Perhaps once they’d reinforced her identity, reminded her who she was—now, she didn’t say them to convince herself of anything.
She said the words because they were true.
“I am Master’s pleasure slut. My body exists to please him. All I am is sex. All I am is tits.”
Her hand would reach up and grope her breasts at that. The haze lessened slightly, the fog cleared. Kate would sometimes search the internet while she was on a call, see if there were any other jobs available, anything that didn’t require her to be on camera as often.
Anything that meant her breasts could be freed for more of the day.
“I am nothing. I am pleasure. I am Master’s stupid, mindless slut.”
This was the most important part, she knew: to remember that she was a fucktoy. She might spend her day working for a big corporation, but that wasn’t her job. Her job was to be a busty, slutty, wet sex toy. She was nothing more than a hole.
And she was good at it.
“I am a fucktoy,” she whispered softly, gently stroking her clit. She’d already cum so many times today that she’d lost count. More than she thought possible. More than she’d ever cum in a single day, before meeting her Master. More than the old her had cum in a month. “I exist to bring him pleasure. My pleasure is his pleasure.”
Kate touched herself, reveling in the softness of her skin against her fingertips. Her fingers slid between her folds, her thumb begin to circle her clit. As the words spilled out of her mouth, so automatic she didn’t have to think about them, the haze lessened, the fog lifted.
“I exist for my Master. For his pleasure. His cock. To serve him.”
She hadn’t seen Master for weeks, but that didn’t matter. He would use her when he wanted. Sometimes he’d warn her; more often he’d drop by, unannounced. She’d be ready for him.
She was always ready for him.
“My wetness is for Master. My tits are to turn him on. My ass is for him to spank, to grope, to fuck.”
Master hadn’t yet fucked her ass, but she hoped he would. It felt like her every hole ached to feel his cock. She groped her tits hard enough she knew it would leave a bruise, imagining—wishing!—that he was the one touching her so roughly. Her clit ached with pain and pleasure, but she didn’t stop.
“I am his slut. I exist to be used. To be taken. By him, and only him.”
She let go, her arm falling limp to her side. She opened her mouth wide, moaning as she pictured Master’s cock inside her mouth, filling her, stretching her.
More than once, Kate’s Master had come by in the middle of the night, while she’d been asleep. He had a key to her apartment, of course—he had full access to her, anytime he wanted. Every part of her.
He hadn’t even woken her up before starting to fuck her. She’d been wet for him—she was always wet for him. It was her fondest memory, waking up to her Master’s cock inside her, using her. Allowing her to fulfill her only purpose in life.
“Everything else is irrelevant,” she groaned. There was drool leaking from the side her mouth. “All I am is sex. All I am is Master’s pleasure.”
She had three fingers inside herself, and her thumb on her clit. She hadn’t cum yet—she couldn’t cum until she finished her mantras. Until all the words she’d committed to memory had left her mouth.
Then, and only then, could she cum.
And then start again.
“I am Master’s horny slut. His dirty, nasty hole to fuck. His whore. Master’s whore.”
The haze was gone. The fog was gone. Kate moaned loudly, her fingers moving faster, her thumb pinching her clit. She bit into her bottom lip hard, biting down, the sharp pain making her moan even louder.
This was her purpose. This was why she existed. Nothing else mattered.
Just this.
“I am Master’s slut. I am Master’s slave. I am his to do with as he pleases.”
She gasped in pleasure, her back arching. She didn’t try to hold it in—she didn’t care what the neighbors heard. All that mattered was the sensation, the pleasure, the heat.
“I cum for Master,” she screamed. “I cum for Master. I cum for—oh! I cum for Master!”
Her hips buckled as she shuddered in orgasm. Her body shook, she cried out, she felt like she was going to pass out.
She didn’t care. If she was unconscious when her Master arrived, he’d take her anyway. He could take her any time of the day or night. She had only one purpose, and that was to please him.
That was why she existed. She belonged to him.
Kate’s mind was hazy when she awoke.
She didn’t even notice anything unusual about it.
She glanced at the phone, checking to make sure that Master hadn’t messaged her while she’d been passed out, and—moving one hand between her legs—began again.
“I am a toy. I am Master’s plaything. I exist for Master’s pleasure...”
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