Happy becoming-a-slave-and-Owner day to us!
Happy becoming-a-slave-and-Owner day to us!
Happy becoming-a-slave-and-Owner day to u~s!
Happy becoming-a-slave-and-Owner day to us.
Two years ago on this irrevocable day I flew from one side of Australia to the other in hooker wear to take up my place at Master’s feet. I was wearing the first pair of boots I’d ever purchased in my life and my first ever pair of fish net stockings.
I was met at the airport by a very normal looking guy wearing a polo shirt. This was in stark contrast to the ‘bad-ass dom’ everyone in the alt chatroom had been warning me about and also in contrast to his slightly maniacal msn persona who had been making lots of statements in our daily chat about having piercings put where no piercings had gone before. He whisked me off in his green range rover to his abode of kink (i.e. lovely suburban home) where I was quickly introduced to his French housemate (the poodle pup Jacque) and his favourite pastime (ravishings).
Two days after arriving I was trucked off to the piercers to have the first of my piercings done. Six months later, my 6 outer labia and clithood piercings were all complete. Unfortunately, it’s two years down the track now and I’m still waiting for healing to finish. Any time now guys! When you’re quite finished not healing for me, I’m ready for some pain-free crotch time! (Two years healing time is not so standard…or so I’m told..aren’t I lucky that I’m not a standard kinda gal???)
After arriving I spent my first few nights chained to a fold up camp bed in the back bedroom. I also distinctly remember one night spent with my hands cuffed behind my back and a ball gag firmly in my mouth. My eyes would instantly open as I heard him coming down to the hallway to my room at all sorts of random hours as it usually meant a rude awakening of the crop-on-bottie kind and some immediate crawling back to his bed on all fours of the ‘oh-my-god-that-slate-tiling-is-cold-at-5am’ kind.
It wasn’t long after I had arrived that I had my first meltdown caused by a head-on collision of fantasies versus realities. The constant on-the-edgeness of never knowing when your next beating was going to occur and the mindfuck of having to wear a permanent collar when I’d expressly ‘negotiated’ with him that I wouldn’t wear another ‘permanent’ collar sent me over the edge. After much screaming and many tears he removed the collar and went to bed. The next day after the reality of *not* wearing a collar had sunk in, I met him, naked, kneeling on the floor as he walked in the door and asked for my collar back. He threw it down at his feet and told me to beg for it, told me to take it up and beg like the animal I was. So I did.
I can’t remember what brought about the second collar meltdown. I just remember him trying to grab me to put the allen key in to take it off as I danced around the kitchen attempting to get out of his reach saying, “Whoa! Can’t we talk about this?” Apparently the answer to that question when you’re a slave is ‘no’.
Following that was the infamous ‘Master-of-two’ incident, where I found out that he’d agreed to train another slave. I found that out when suddenly his nickname on his blog comments changed from ‘kittens_master’ to ‘Master-of-two’. Needless to say, I was pretty damn upset about it. Much talking ensued and Master of two became Master of one again. There may be a time in the future when I’m secure enough to add another one into the equation, but not just yet.
The slave tattoo in Japanese characters was etched on my bottie later in year one and although we tried to get Master’s initials done as a second tattoo, some crappy customer service saw us leaving the parlor with our deposit in hand and no second tattoo on bottie.
Other memorable moments over the past two years would have to involve the frozen mars bar up the twat, the birth of Blair Witch Perth and the breaking of me part une, deux and trois.
Since October last year Master has been AWOL from the house during much of the week because of his work. Since May this year I’ve also been working and it’s looking like I will be continuing to do so until mid-to-late September (those people just keep extending my contract! AHHHHHHH!) Because of these changes which keep us apart and very tired, our normally laid-back approach to D/s is looking so relaxed it’s almost comatose. But shit happens and you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do, because life must go on. Eventually things will get back to ‘normal’ and there will be a much more compliant and willing slavegirl ready to serve her Master as he walks in the door for a daily slavegirlie greeting and ravishing (complete with earcleaning and back scratching!)
Happy Anniversary Master. Thank you for a lovely two years xxx