Ten years a slave

Ten years ago I became a slave.

How do you do that?

Is a question I get a lot.

The most common inflection on that question when people ask it is, How do you do that?

That is perceived as something hard and weird and most people don’t really understand what that, slavery, is as opposed to being a submissive, bottom or a switch.

The bit about it being hard is very true. The bit about most people not really understanding it is also true. The bit about it being weird? Well, I saw 10,000 screaming kidlets making their way to a One Direction concert on Friday and in my mind that was weird.

The less common inflection on the question is, How do you do that?

And I actually think that is a much more interesting question to ask.

Now, I’ve told my story before in several blog posts but just to recap:

I discovered this thing called The Internet, I wanted stories about kidnapping and captivity, I found literotica.com, I started chatting with a friendly girl and then a friendly guy on the forums, I became his ‘online bitch’, he disappeared, I got all butt-hurt, I found alt.com, I started chatting with a friendly guy in the D/s room, I became his ‘online bitch’, I decided to leave my husband and go live with him and be his slave.

And that’s how it happened, all in the course of three to four months. Of course, during that time I was literally absorbing the internet and anything and everything it had to say about bdsm, D/s, M/s. I spend a LOOOOOOT of time chatting with people too – back in the days of chatrooms and MSN messenger. I actually think there was a lot more interaction back then and a lot more ‘discussion’ between people in the scene via those mediums.

So, my initial experience of slavery involved a contract and a lot of rules. I hand-wrote my contract using a calligraphy pen and my sister signed it. I don’t have a copy of it and I can’t really remember what it said but it was quite flowery and sounded a lot like wedding vows interspersed with details of what my slavery would involve. I was to prepare the contract, de-hair myself and front up to be his slave.

My Master lived in the centre of Australia, about 2700kms away (so google tells me…) so I used the services of the internet to find a rental apartment for us both (and his two kids on the weekends) and myself a job to supplement the translation work I was going to continue to do. I sent him a few thousand dollars to ‘set the house up’ and bought some things online for him – a collar, rope, candles, a cat-o-nine-tails, went to the doctor and got a prescription for the pill (we were to be fluid-bound a.k.a he hated condoms) and booked a one-way flight and with suitcase in hand off I went.

He came to the airport to pick me up. My honest first reaction was disappointment because he was so normal. He was wearing jeans and a redish shirt and looked like he needed a haircut. His car was an old bomb that needed to be hooked up to a battery to recharge it and it generally wouldn’t start.

We’d spent hours and hours chatting (this was in the days before Skype and video messaging was really a thing), I’d seen some photos of him and I’d spoken to him quite a few times on the phone. In my mind, I’d blown him up into some amazing God-like figure and I was expecting to feel something akin to the rapture and want to fall on my knees in front of his in the airport terminal.

Actually it was nothing like that, he said ‘hello’, I said ‘hi’ and then we went to get my bag.

Cue uncomfortable silence.

He asked about my flight and I told him it was ok. I asked him about the house I’d rented, sight-unseen for us to move into. He said it was ok. I got my bag and then we went to his car and he drove me to my new home.

Cue uncomfortable silence.

After we arrived home, I looked around the place. He had moved in about a week ago and bought a new tv and other assorted things. He asked me if I wanted a coffee and I said yes. So we went into the kitchen and he showed me how he liked his coffee to be made.

We sat down in front of the tv and watched Dr Phil while we drank our coffee.

Cue uncomfortable silence.

Then he turned off the tv and told me to go and get my contract. I went and pawed through my bag, finding the contract I’d written and brought it back. He glanced over it in silence and put it down on the coffee table.

He went to the bedroom and brought back the collar he’d made me buy and spent the next ten minutes trying to put it on. It was hilarious because it was one of those ones that had a sectioned piece come out of it that you first undid with an allen key. Trying to prise the stainless steel collar apart enough to release the piece was funny, then trying to get it onto my neck was even funnier. Anyway, he eventually got it on and then told me to strip.

I stripped and then he had me knee over the back of the couch. He disappeared into the bedroom and came back with a rattan cane and beat my ass until I was crying. It was the first time I’d ever been hit with anything at all. I’d not even had a playful swat on my bottom before and I was in no way prepared for that. Then he fucked me from behind while I was still snivelling and I’d never experienced that before either so that was, in a word, painful.

When he was done, he took me into the bedroom and showed me the toy collection in the wardrobe. He said I was never allowed to touch any of the toys. He’d also bought an enema kit and told me that I would need to start using it because he wanted his ass clean. Other rules I had were that I wasn’t allowed to kiss him and I wasn’t allowed to close the door when I used the toilet.

Then we went back to the living room and he had me sit on the floor at his feet and said I wouldn’t be allowed to sit on the couch again. He started playing with my neck while we were watching tv and then told me he wanted a coffee. I got up and made him a coffee and then he took it and went to the study and put his headphones on and started playing counterstrike.

He made dinner that night and we had some more uncomfortable silences and I think we watched a dvd. I had a bath and then he said it was my bed time. I was also to sleep naked and he had me get into bed and put a set of prisoner transport wrist cuffs and ankle irons on me – the ones where you can’t stretch out your legs – so I slept in the foetal position. Then he turned the light out and went back to playing counter strike. I didn’t do much sleeping and sometime in the early hours of the morning he came to bed and I was wondering what would happen.

He pulled me over the side of the bed so my head was hanging off the side and put his cock down my throat. That was the first time I’d ever had that done to me and my gag reflex quickly had me gagging and I remember tasting bile. He turned me over and fucked me in the ass again and the cuffs were digging into my wrists and ankles so badly. I remember thinking I was going to start bleeding.

He didn’t say anything to me during any of it. I remember just hanging on for the ride.

Then he was done and he rolled over and went to sleep.

And that was how I did that.

The start of my second round of slavery was similar but also very different. Again there were the uncomfortable silences but there was also a ball gag and boots. I think that’s a story for another time though.

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9 thoughts on “Ten years a slave”

  1. Did you find any of it erotic? Did it ‘scratch your itch’? I had an online (vanilla) thing that went for a few years and when we actually met IRL he was impotent (for psychological reasons I reckon – even Viagra failed to do the trick). It was SO not hot. At all.
    I’m curious as to how you actually *felt* about it all. It seems like an incredibly wild and crazy thing to do, sight unseen…a whole new world. You brave creature!

    1. Brave? Stupid? I think it’s a fine line between them! But I’ve always done exactly whatever has taken my fancy and I wanted to do it – I had such a fire in my belly for living the fantasy.
      The pre and post thoughts I had were definitely much more exciting and erotic than any during thoughts I had. I remember trying to *make* myself feel more excited because I was expecting more but we didn’t have the chemistry to pull it off.

  2. I remember him. My ex Dom hated him with a passion. I can’t quite remember why, I think he (ex Dom) knew he was a wannabe/not legit.

    1. At the time I just wanted it so badly that I didn’t care about what anyone else thought, but in the scheme of things, at least he was ‘known’ and not some random off the street.
      I sometimes wonder what he is up to these days. Last I saw he was over in NZ (according to collarme and under a different screen name but with same photos…)

      1. I agree re: him being known. There are so many freaks out there, who do bad things. Especially when we are all new and excited about stuff. It’s all like SQUEEEEE! And we think what happens to us is ‘right’ no matter what is done to us.

        I was raped anally by my first Dom, I can still remember the terrible pain, me screaming at him to stop, trying to get away from him, but unable to.
        I thought that was what BDSM was about. 😦
        It’s really fucked with my head and it happened in 2003.

        1. *hugs* That is a shitty, shitty experience and I’m so sorry you had to go through that…. 😦
          There certainly are a lot of bad people out there and I guess the umbrella of bdsm gives them a cover to ‘justify’ what they do (and sometimes a place to hide…)
          My non-consent experiences rate as a -10 on the scale of shitty experiences (whereas yours is right up there at the top) but they still messed with my head a bit so I can totally see how you would need a LOT of healing after that.

          1. Thank you….

            I can understand that what happened to you messed with your head, no matter how you view it compared to someone else. huuuugs

            I was on Fetlife awhile ago and read this post about a woman who had a Dom come over and he seriously fucked her up. She is going to have to have colostomy bag as he did so much damage done to her. That was just one part of what he’d done to her. I can’t remember the rest, just remember feeling sickened, horrified and dismayed by what had happened. That poor woman. 😦

            The whole ‘kink’ thing is just so exciting and ‘naughty’, that as newbies we just want to explore anything and everything and don’t think it through properly.

            I told someone that (for me anyway) getting into BDSM was akin to having your first boyfriend. It’s all rainbows and unicorns, you fall madly in love with that person, you don’t have a benchmark as to how things should go. Even if things seem not quite right, you don’t leave as you are ‘in love’. That’s how it was for me, like a first love. It’s all encompassing and consuming.

            1. ^^ THIS.
              Rainbows, unicorns and fucking cupcakes with sprinkles.

              It’s definitely some strong chemical stuff going on in your brain and there is no benchmark or litmus paper to test anything by. It’s just WANT, WANT, WANT and you do anything in order to live the “dream” that you wanted.

              But the really funny thing is that a couple of months ago I stupidly put myself in the some dangerous situations and by this stage and at this age, I should know better. But honestly, I don’t know how you can protect yourself fully. There is always a point where you are alone with someone and you are vulnerable. Anyone could do anything, regardless of how well you *think* you know them. All the safewords and calls to friends in the world are not going to help in that moment.

              1. I did the same thing a few years ago; putting myself in a dangerous situation.
                I do wonder sometimes if I have a brain.
                But sometimes that itch just has to be scratched and our brains go out the window… lol

                I like cupcakes with sprinkles..

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