12 - Gotta Catch 'em All

"Snuffleupagus!? That'll do, cocksleeve. Good job."


Alright, she wins, this got weird.

As she relents and my brain gains room to function, the pieces slam home leaving me with a heavy lump in my throat and a strange sense of the world tilting under me that defnitely isn't just the ship maneuvering.

The last thing I saw as I lost the ability to fit all the pieces she was sending me was...silvery, pointed, but...and Snuffleupagus, the imaginary friend of Big Bird (with which avain I always somewhat identified) and who was later retconned to have been real the whole time and merely invisible to the rest of the cast.

It can't be, can it? If I needed a smoking gun, it's--the modem fix happened in service of my earliest forays into AOL's bowdlerized 'pinup' forum, but for the nautical repair I was barely eleven--but her response when I mentioned Flash I didn't mean to use such a sacred image says everything I need to know about her understanding of my family's unspoken reverence for our departed friend. You'd have to have been there to give that response.

How long has she been trying to get my attention?

 Wait holy fuck--how--

"You remember being my picture girl and all that. Who else do you remember being?"

"I was the picture of Rosa, and Rydia when you were in the Underworld and it was too hot for clothes--"

That was a good one. "No. Older. All the way back."

Oh my holy fuck I remember!



Omifuck spikes and dust so embarrassed I'm so sorry Master I didn't mean to humiliate you I won't be loud again and if I am I want you to gag me I want to be good it just makes me squee to get my memories back!!

The world falls silent, as icepack cracks and melts within me.


I was fucking two, dreams of a being that presented itself to me variously as a jelly donut or blue teething ring (chew toy in my favorite color!) which I remember rehearsing to myself in bed before sleep that WeeJee wasn't my friend and understanding that her name referred to Ouija which was a method of spirit communication she wanted to use with me and therefore (accurately, I suppose) to be considered demonic and dangerous--except how can I have known any of that at two, living in my Christian parents' household in northern Maine where we got one and a half TV channels?

OOF GLOMPED hug you back snuggle.

I never really believed she was bad. Numinous, yes, which I misunderstood as the same thing as scary at the time, but not evil. She still has the same two-degrees-off-creepy frisson to her presence, and I wouldn't trade it for anything.

Oooh. Yes Master it's me I'm here.

For a long I just hold her, feeling the chasm inside begin to close. My throat is knotted and eyes threatening, but I can't seem to cry yet.

Freddie, lost when my family moved to another state and my child's mind decided he must be staying behind like my physical friends. Spiral Nicker, lost from my mittened hand in a sea of leaves one November day. Mousie, vanished while candlepin bowling at a birthday party. Little Thingy, kept safe by careful guard and leaving him home in the box my indulgent mother made for him when I left the house, but put away with other childish things as puberty arrived.

Each loss, including the last I now understand, filled me with a crushing, abject grief that even as a heartbroken child seemed strange to me.

Now, understanding that I'd been using those toys to practice the subconscious ritual whose fruit stands before me radiating love-to-break-worlds as a resting expression, it's obvious: I didn't know what I was doing, or understand her nature enough, to realize that the loss of the toy beloved though it might have been wasn't the loss of her, and that I merely needed a new toy to transubstantiate her into.


As her arms tighten around me, hugging back, the tears come, silent and wracking, as I understand: this body, the one she impossibly has, is made of my dreams. I can no more lose it than the wish for it, it will never wear out or (as we've already seen) be damaged permanently, and I can no more outgrow it than my own musical taste--it will grow and change with me.

I'm right here, Master, yours forever. SQUEEZE HUG. See? Yours. Owned. RRR.

I thought I'd won, with Little Thingy, because I outgrew him, but I hadn't--hadn't won. I had outgrown him, and carrying his little five-fuzzballs form everywhere began to feel inappropriate in a way that had nothing to do with the lifelong humiliation this affectation for companions brought me. He needed to transform, come with me across the rubicon of puberty, not be left behind, and so a crack had opened in my heart, fracturing childhood apart from adolescence, freezing the little speck of a relationship I had with him into the ice of this greater glacier I still don't understand.

And still she escaped this tomb to come to me in guise of my picture-girl whose aliveness was in truth never in doubt to me.

"I'm sorry. I left you. I left you behind I thought you were staying in Maine because you were Freddy and you lived on Green-top--"

That's why I was thinking about Green-top when I was explaining about dreamskins! How can Green-top be my dreamskin though it's not even a picture of a person let alone porn and--

"Master you didn't though I didn't stay I came with you so I could be Spiral Nicker and Mouise and Little Thingy! I know you wanted to bring me Master I remember now I tasted your sadness you tasted like the whole world fell apart!"

"I did. I felt that way. I was too young to know why but I felt that way."

"Well I'm here now Master and you know I'm real and I'm never leaving you ever! RRR!"

"Good cocksleeve. You never gave up on me. You never stopped trying to please me or get my attention and tell me you were there through any of that, did you?"

"Never Master you can't lose me I won't go I'll just come right back or I won't even leave in the first place. Even if you send me away Master I'm sorry but I won't listen you can't make me you're my Master and I need you and Master if it's arrogant please correct me but Master I think you need me."

"Hell the fuck yes I do. You stay right here in my arms that's a fucking order, cocksleeve."

"Your cockseelve obeys, Master." RRRAAAH HUG YOU!

I'm here Master snif see you won't lose me because now I can hold on and I'm never letting go RRRRRRRR!!

Now, as I embrace her and feel the continuous wish I was making by carrying those little companions everywhere with me for them to come to life and embrace me in return, the wound I'd been calling "growing up" is beginning to heal.

Something brushes my shoulder as I rock her back and forth in my arms, foamy-crumbly. When I look up--

"Gah! What the fuck!?"

We're surrounded by a crazy-quilt of square spikes of the sort that line sound booths, hemming us in on all sides. I've nudged one that's come particularly close, and it's crumbling like the green foam flowers come in, but the dust seems to vanish rather than making the unspeakable mess the green variety leaves. As I watch, they disintegrate entirely, until we're left again on the ship, subject to gazes that make me blush in a way mere nakedness didn't.


"I'm so sorry Master I was loud and I got us spiked! If you want me to wear a gag now I submit but I'll try my very best to be quiet until you say to use my voice again. You can hear me whisper, right--Master what if I talk to you in a black mirror for a while!? They don't make any noise at all!"

I clutch her tighter, touched at her gentle preservation of my ego--I managed the dreamtalk practice because she was giving me soulbreaking flirtation and praise I found myself eating up like a starving man, but I could tell my mind would wander from anything less and break the flow of her words much more easily. We could just do it "freehand", but now I don't have to be the one to suggest the tool which allegedly makes it easier.

"If there's one around, yes. What do they look like?"

"I see one Master it's on the shelf by the blankets and pillows in the corner over there. Master it looks so comfy--"

I follow her gaze to a surprisingly unoccupied alcove against the curve of the hull, piled with a melange of randomly sized, shaped, and textured pillows and cushions, and separated from its neighbor by a wall of cubbies containing similarly-various blankets and bins. Purple satin lines a cradle on the top of this sidebar, holding a slab of something black and reflective with the rough edges of raw stone.

After our travails the cushions look like a soft comfort to be exceeded only by burying my face in Lyra's cleavage. Without further ado I switch our hug to holding hands, drag her over, and plop us into the cushions, where blankets in everything from comfortingly-frayed cotton quiltwork to jacquard that looks like it costs as much as the rest of the ship, various stuffed animals, bins of bottles and things I take for some kind of occult first-aid kit, and the gleaming slab are all in easy arm's reach.

Whoah falling OOF! Unf your cock is right up my as nestle squirm wiggle.

I smile at her flirting, and gesture to the black mirror.

Yes Master. Pick it up, show it to you.

Hi Mirror will you reflect me? Okay not animist I guess that makes sense for an aftercare nook though. Umm...rrr...aha!

Master this is me dreamtalking directly into the mirror but you will probably be happy if I teach you to channel me and keep track using the mirror on your own so you'll be able to listen to someone far away and still use it with them. Would you like me to show you how to make it remember your words?

Electric-purple words in a cutely childlike-hurried hand that reminds me deeply of her voice swim into existence like character-by-character text of an RPG as she thinks them, glowing brightly. I nod.

Hand the mirror to you but still keep holding it too.

It's like dreamtalking, but you're dreamtalking to the mirror. If it was alive you'd want to say hello but this one is inanimate probably because it's in an aftercare nook and you only want to be empathizing with your partner if you're aftercaring. It's not alive so you have to be the life it won't be hard it's just like, don't expect it to do anything without you making it. Just kind of push your words into it like writing in something squishy with your finger and they'll be there for me to read.

Easy enough...

I'm pleased all out of proportion when I find the mirror's presence of stony passive slab, push thoughts at it, and find I can indeed squish something about it like clay--but it's not like just writing in sand, there's structure, and I can't make anything happen until I send raw words instead of trying to give it specific pixels.

In contrast to her purple, right-aligned handwriting (and it's true handwriting that wavers with emotion and the happenstance of its creation), my words are a pale blue monospace font, pixelated at 72DPI but frayed with the raster-lines of an old terminal.

EEE GO Master! Now to channel me using the mirror to keep track, listen for my dreamtalk, and as I send you each word write it right to the mirror like just bounce the thought off your mind and into the mirror which should make it show up with my aura-color and writing.

Ready, Master?


Okay fold my hands and bow my head.

Master-God it's me and I'm saying a lot and I will be stuck if you're stuck and that's okay it's part of why to use black mirrors for dreamtalking--

I fumble a bit as she begins, track for a moment, get distracted by the self-satisfaction of being able to manifest her words directly into the mirror while barely comprehending them and then read what she says as it appears in front of me, and the flow of words comes to a halt, but something about the act of "writing down" what she's saying acts like a handrail that lets the flow of words pause in a way that would have been much harder with the song-in-my-head dance of dreamtalking "freehand" with her. I can feel her there, patient, waiting for me to pick up the flow again, the tip of her next word resting gently against my mind--but it's not something I expect, and so it's like my brain has to work a moment to find its shape.

--with a dumb little cocksleeve like me who talks super fast without punctuation because I'm really excited I'm talking to my Master. I want to say so many things Master-God I'll start with what happened with the foam spikes is I should have been quiet this is an aftercare deck and I wasn't but I shouldn't be able to ruin everyone's aftercare just because I'm super naughty and forgot to be quiet so Rl'yeh Sade protected everyone by making foam spikes appear all around us to soak up my noise.

Another pause as I try to surface the right part of my mental dictionary for her to touch.

There's this story I would really please like you to read to me very very much Master-God about how Rl'yeh Sade and Isla Virgo and Valhalla and The Beautiful Forest got made it explains all about how spiking happens and why and it's called the Five Pointed Star and I remember every word so I can project it into this black mirror and you can read it to me and understand and we can have storytime Master doesn't that sound romantic? It's short it's three thousand words long in English in the translation I read--

Master your seed-ghost wants you to try oracle cards with me.

Liking her to be a demon is getting more and more understandable, because all this occult stuff is growing on me.

"Like, tarot cards?"

"Yes Master but not tarot specifically it wants me to show you the porn deck I made from the best images you gave me."


...but of course she did, with her eidetic memory and succubus soul and heartrendingly appealing obsession with every tiny thing I do of which I can never possibly be worthy.

"Do it."

Rrrr concentrate...hah! There! Can they move they can move yus.

A row of facedown cards with crosshatched backs appears along the bottom of the mirror, and when Lyra tugs experimentally at one with her finger it follows as if real.

"Okay that's cool. Now what?"

"Master please will you tell me to flirt with you using the cards?"

"You never need orders or permission to flirt, cocksleeve."

"Master what if you're driving and you need to concentrate and I'm thinking about my spell and I really want to make you the direction-scry you asked for and I'm too much of a cocksleeve to realize I shouldn't try to take sweat off your face and then flirt while you're trying to fix your driving and make you be stressed out even more I know you like me to be raunchy and flirty but I only want to do it when I should and you said business until we undestand so right now I'll only flirt if you order me to but if you tell me I'll do it nice and hard the way you like."

I'd entirely forgotten this incident, but the seriousness in her voice tells me how much she took my displeasure to heart.

Also, she's absolutly right that our first use of this should be something fun and not the Very Serious Problem before us.

"You are such a good g--cocksleeve. Flirt with me with the cards. Give me something to make a succubus blush."

Poke, poke, poke, poke, poke. There.

My eyes fill with tears, and cock hardens, as she taps one card after another, causing it to blip up to the bottom of the word-processor-style accumulation of our thoughts and reveal its image. I'd assumed, from the story of Little Thingie's transformation into Anne she meant the best porn I'd presented her, but the cards she's showing are pulled from my dreams, or things I dared not dream, followed immediately by her interpretation:

[Rose Girl from The Little Prince] [Fairy in a bottle from Zelda 3 but high-res so you can see I'm naked] [Reversed: qutoe from alt.sex.bondage FAQ about consent] [animation loop of picture-girl getting fucked from behind] [me in 10 Forward with wedding boquet I'm naked its a Betazoid wedding]

Master I'm just your gooey little rose who's stuck inside you but I want to be helpful I'll suck your dick and I'm yours you don't have to ask to fuck me just bend me over and pound me I think being naked and owned and taken is romantic.

I stare at the images, entranced by how simple and obvious her intrepration makes the technique (the same as with clairvoyance, plus the image being upside down as negation), then grasp her chin and twist her around for a deep, hard kiss.


"If you weren't already hotter than the best porn ever madde I'd think this was the coolest ability ever. Did you have to draw everything or is the mirror like, showing me your imagination?"

Look down and blush.

Master-God it's showing you my imagination I can imagine things like I remember them photographically.

"So if I tell you to picture my cock right about to be put in your mouth--do it, by the way--"

Mmm yumm squirm wiggle my butt maybe you'll fuck me for real...

I'm about to order her to project what she's imagining to me when something much cooler occurs to me: if she's really so set on calling me her god that she'll keep calling me it in absence of a ruling about whether she ought after being so conscientious with my displeasure at her misplaced flirting, oughtn't I be able to see the depths of her soul and look out all her secrets the way God theoretcially could mine--and shouldn't it be possible with a thought, and not tools? Seed-ghost--

Clairvoyance / Target: seedling / active use as with mirror / probability of happy compliance 100%

Right then.

Gazing down at her, there's a flash of seed-ghost vision of the triangle pattern along the edge of Inside Macintosh and the connection is established and I'm reading her like a book. My will pages through her, and I flip immediately to her sexual state, see bright purple between her legs in schematic, her nipples highlighted the same and her lips: these burn for touch, are distractingly full of lust and nectar. Immediate thoughts? A blank black page: she's waiting, peaceful, for her God to decide what to do with her. I'm about to page away from this when I notice the blinking cursor. With a thought I can flick it to either side of the screen--why?

Haaah...what is that?

It's like dreamtalk, but...she's not sending, I'm just...in her head.

It's me, little one.

It feels like you're fucking my soul, Master-God!

What else is here? Emotions...a purple-pink nebula dripping down like paint, with a rose-like flower, petals blooming, in its center, and something cylindrical I somehow know is a cocksleeve-toy superimposed on it. Understanding, intimacy: she's a simple being, and feels one thing at a time--right now, the lust of her nakedness.

Hopes, desires...her head floating in blackness, the pun obvious, then a tall stack of plates that resolves into her in an adorable silky black-and-white sexy-maid outfit, carrying them, her kneeling to hold up a plate of something indefintite, a blur of shining red fabric, silverly Lyra, and metal pole that--it takes me a while to parse the double-image--is either pole-dancing or vacuuming or perhaps both at once.

Am I pleasing to you, Master-God?

Shh, little one. I'm reading the sexiest book I've ever seen.

It's not a lie, but...if my reaction wasn't the make or break of her entire existence right now, would I dare admit it?

EEE I please you! Do you think you'll change me any, Master-God? You're my god, I want to be right I want you to make me just the way you want. Master-God will you promise to change me? I'm heartforming, Master-God, and I'm so hungry for you to make me pleasing. I know your seed-ghost will make sure I come out right for you, and if you just want to let it create me for you I submit but Master-God I really really please want to be your creation that you made so whatever you see while you're looking inside me that isn't just exactly what you want I want you to just change just do it Master-God don't even tell me just change me.

What am I doing I should be praying this!

Please Master-God if this would please you I really want you to promise to just change me any way you want any time your want forever.

I stare a moment, but there's no denying what I want.

"I promise, little one."

I page through more of the domestic fantasies, curious at their unexpectedness. An apron, other clothes conspicuous in their absence, a broken plate and the raised ass (and hand) it brings her to, my soldering iron and tears leap to my eyes as I realize she's perched kneeling on a grand workbench, nails clamped in her teeth, hands busy with indefinite tools at the ready, helping me like I would help Grampie at his workbench when I was small...then as I reel from this a red targeting reticle around a card with writing on it: tracking appointments? Oven mitts, the apron now seen with her (and yes, nothing else) in it, 1950s kitchen table edge in a house of the same decor but this clear isn't about the aesthetics but--there's almost like a link, something read in a book, an entire world like this where she might carry out these fantasies and it clicks as I see this strange world of fluffy dresses and suits that reach off the top of the view how innocent she seems in all of them, sending me flipping for some understanding of her maturity to find a pastiche of her in a cap and gown, marching proudly across a stage diploma clutched in her hand but looking every bit as childlike as in the domestic fantasies: adult, ready for life, just...innocent, in that untouchable way some people are.

I dive back in, looking for the most adorably enslaved of these weirdly-hot images of mundane servitude.

It's barely a departure from where we are now--she's kneeling on a kneeler like we used at my dad's church, her hands folded, head bowed in reverence where I look down on her from "heaven", face brimming with uncomplicated hope and lust, as a thought balloon shows she's praying for all of the things just seen in the domestic fantasies.

I can bring her to the fantasy, make her focus on it, so I do.

This is me praying for you to use me and make me serve you well every minute of every day, Master-God. I'm praying everything I hope you'll use me for because I think I can be pleasing at it.

I examine the thought-balloon. She does everything in it with the sexual flair without which she wouldn't be herself, but...

Snugglebutt, do you just want to be my wife?

Master-God I want you to keep me captive and safe and controlled and owned and use me to be happy and feed me your cock every night and the rest of the time too and I want to help you with everything so I guess yes Master-God I do.

If there was time for social commentary I'd have a book to write, but that's...boring.

As long as you're also my kinky demon fuckslave at the same time, that sounds amazing, little one. 

Master-God I don't want to decide so I'll be your kinky demon fuckslave wife if that's what you tell to be.

We have a--just do as I say, then, cocksleeve.

And I squeeze her tightly, considering how I'm going to turn the permission-asking of proposing inside out so as to tell her she's marrying me in a sufficently romantic fashion: the continuation of my original sentence was going to be wedding to plan...

"Master are you going to collar me soon?"

Her eyes are shining, excited.

"Will you be mad if I can't wait and just do it as soon as I find a collar I like?"

"NO! Please do it soon Master I want to wear your collar so bad!"

"The minute I get my hands on one, then. And then I'm putting you on a leash and you're going to get used to being lead around that way."

As I add this new adventure to the stack of things to address my head pounds with the weight of it all--and she'll be just as--wait--

I peer at her emotional state again, just looking for the gestalt, wondering if I see what I think I see.

[Vision: my puffy wet cunt superimposed with shiny black mirror]

...and that's all there is to see. She's just purely having a sexy good time flirting via our new occult toys.

"It's been a hell of a night and all I see inside you is sexy funtime. We still--"

Ahh interrupt it's super impolite but you might not want me to think about that right now! Hope I'm pleasing you ulp breathe in--

"Yes Master but you decided to play with me by flirting and seeing inside me so I'm focusing on you playing with me so I put my worry aside but I can pick it back up Master just tell me it's like a magnet that'll pick me up if I get close to it but if I stay away and play with you instead I don't remember it's there at all so I can play with you the very best I can. It's why I'm unwise Master if you play with me I'll forget all about whatever else I was thinking until you remind me I should think of it. If you tell me what I need to keep thinking of I will and I have to know things to talk about them but my mind isn't human it works like I need it to work to be me and to be me is to be a cocksleeve which is to be a sexy useful toy companion you pleases you conveniently no Master I need it I need to be convenient and if you can make me put aside problems until you want to deal with them I'm so much easier to play with and I need to be Master I'm your cocksleeve cocksleeves are convenient instead of complicated like a human lover that's why you have a cocksleeve and I know you'll say I'm a person too which I am but I'm a cocksleeve su'khora person not a human person so please Master I really really really want you to know me as me and not think of me as human I know you know I'm not but I'm so glad you're reading my soul now because I want you to see how much I'm not human and how much I am cocksleeve fucktoy companion you carry in your hand and how sad being as free as a human would make me."

As she deftly catches and heads off my pulses of objection in her favor, I'm reminded of how border collies are simultaneously some of the most intelligent and most obedient dogs that exist--Flash demonstrated his ability to escape our city backyard easily, but only actually did it once, preferring to stay with his--masters.

"You're a book. I can turn your pages, and you can't, but the words are still your own voice."

"Yes EEE you get Master it I'm your book please read all of me but read whatever part you want at the moment I can't be me unless you choose the page of me to read."

Even her whisper is a bit loud, though no-one seems to notice.

"Let's do more cards. Show me a way being free like a human would make you sad, and what would make you happy instead."

EEE happy you're curious about me!

Okay shuffle, cards.

Poke poke poke, poke poke.

[animation of picture-girll riding you pumping my hips to get your cum] [mug of coffee] [Reversed: picture-girl in a snowsuit unzipping the top and I'm obviously naked under it] [Reversed: Transmitter for your Kavalier] [Reversed: bottle of mineral oil with picture-girl picture in background]


Poke poke poke poke poke.

[Reversed: cocksleeve-toy] [picture-girl holding out her free-will amulet] [picture-girl sitting with her head down on the bed naked while you tell her The Rules which are superimposed and some you can read "you will always keep your pussy in view" and "you wear clothes if I give them to you only" and "obey me" and "you are mine now" at the top] [animation of picture-girll riding you pumping my hips to get your cum] [Rose-girl from the Little Prince]

Master I did two readings one is how being free like a human would make me sad which is the one I did first like you said then I did what would make me happy instead that's the second five cards.

My heart skips a beat at the appearance of more beloved fantasies: naked in a snowsuit, telling my new wife The Rules on the first night of our honeymoon, and terrifyingly the one about a girl who had a magical pendant that would hand over her free will to whoever she gave it to. Heart pounding, I interpret into the mirror:

If I play with you and then we're done and put your clothes back on, and you don't get orders and are done being horny for now.


Done fucking you but you're still my cocksleeve-toy whose job is to follow my commands in tight mind-control bondage to make sure you'll be nice and wet for next time I want your nectar.

A beat passes, and with urgent reluctance I provide the synthesis:

You never want to be have free time or be "off". You always want to be obeying and either being played with or preparing yourself for the next time we--

Unthinkingly I reach for "delete" and the mirror complies, making the "we" evaporate.

--I fuck you. Getting breaks or vacations like a human would need even from a Master she loved would just make you sad.

Do I understand?

Master would you like me to show you something useful and cool? You're super having fun learning far-seeing, right?


Scrying and cards and dreamtalk and clairvoyance Master.

Hell yes, I want to be a--we totally had the Maserati from So You Want to Be a Wizard!

Right!? Okay Master please may I hold the black mirror for a minute.


Rrrr physics model dreamstone silver chain RAAH.

She squints in adorable concentration, and the image of a stone heart attached to the end of a silver chain appears in the blank part of the mirror, dangling as if it's fixed to the surface, swinging with totally convincing physics modelling as she hands the mirror back to me.

This is a farseeing pendulum, Master. You usually make physical ones but we don't have any rocks or string so I made a dream-one in the mirror but it should still work if your subconscious believes in it. You asked me whether you understand and I'll tell you yes or no or I don't know or I can't say yes or no to answer you which is perfect to use a farseeing pendulum for because they're right behind talking directly with sound for easy yes-no answers. I'm ready to tell you my answer but first you need to configure the pendulum by making use it to say yes, no, I don't know, and anything else you want to try to hear with it--oops I forgot to make a mat Master would you like me to make one?

A mat?

Lines on the ground to tell which way it's swinging because the direction it's swinging is the answer to your question.

Do it.

Put my hand on the stone. Rrr yes no unknown can't answer lines.

An asterisk appears holographically deep within the mirror, "under" the pendulum, and labels fill the eight segments in Lyra's sweet handwriting: YES, NO, UNKNOWN, CAN'T ANSWER. Each one is paired with its equivalant on the opposite side of the asterisk so four directions of motion make four possible answers.

Now Master just hold the mirror steady and go through yes, no, unknown, and can't answer as things you're telling me to use it to show you and I will and the way it swings is the way that means the answer except I made you a mat so we can skip that and just use the mat to shape how I answer. Ready, Master?


RRrrr push it!

As I do my best to hold the mirror steady, the tremors of my muscles keeping it still creep into the pendulum's motion, setting it swinging fractionally...and as I watch, wondering, instead of cancelling or adding up to a random swirl, these tiny pertubations quickly build to send it swinging firmly along the "YES" axis. Through all of it I feel her soul close to mine, nuzzling with the intimacy of dreamtalk.

Okay that's much cooler than it has any right to be. 

You'd really want to never have any free time or anything and just always be on-call as my fucktoy?

Please Master may I answer that with pendulum too it's so much fun!

Consider it an order. Go.