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| Hi!
i am a very happily owned slave. my Master and i are seeking a bisexual female to complete our wonderful, caring, lifestyle, poly family. W/we are very intelligent, easy-going, fun-loving, positive, passionate, and very, VERY much in love. i worship Him, and He cherishes and cares for me. W/we are very respectful of limits, but are seeking someone who enjoys most, if not all, of the kinks W/we so love to indulge.
The only qualities W/we insist upon are as follows: honesty, openness, close to the Triad, or willing to relocate, bisexual, either slave/submissive, or switch. Age is not very important, though i would prefer someone no older than Master. Height/weight are also unimportant, though a physical chemistry is necessary. Race does not matter.
A real, honest, intense connection will take time, and W/we do not expect an instantaneous life-altering change on your part. Only the opportunity to get acquainted.
You may contact me on the Y! im...littlebitchbecca....but only if you are seriously interested.
Best wishes in your search!
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Confessions of a
slave
by:
Dslittlebitch
© 2007
unfortunately, the censors here do not allow me to use some of the original wording of my tale. Please forgive the censorship i have been forced to do as a result. thanks! ~bitch
Preface
I am twenty-six years old. I have two small children, and my whole world revolves around them. My first priority, without exception, is to be the best mother I can possibly be. As soon as I have the money, I’ll finalize my divorce from their father, and I intend to throw a huge party.
I have been a teacher, and plan to be a tattoo artist. I love literature, and hoard books as though they were gold. I have a high IQ, and a voracious appetite for learning new things. I can adapt to almost any situation, and carry on a conversation with nearly any ‘type’ of person without feeling out of place. I am a music fanatic, with very eclectic taste, and I love to sing and dance. I volunteer for various causes when I can, and enjoy being in community theater productions when I have the time.
I am making my place in the world, on my own. I have always been the ultimate “Miss Goody Two-shoes.” Now, I am independent, self-assured, outspoken, and totally in control of every aspect of my life.
By day.
Late in the evenings, after the kids are in bed, and on the weekends they spend with their father, everything changes.
During those times, i belong to Him.
one
Throughout the long drive to His home, i drop layers of self-control like an exotic dancer deliberately removing layers of her costume. i shed my teacher persona, my student persona. Gone is the good girl, the headstrong, outspoken overachiever. i won’t need them this weekend. As the last remaining accouterments of the modern wonder-woman fall away, i stop at an Interstate rest area to freshen up. i want always to look my best for Him. In the piercing glare of the humming fluorescent lights, i carefully touch up my makeup, and arrange my hair just the way He likes. Soft, tousled, touchable. i straighten my clothes, slightly rumpled by the hour-long drive. Then, the piece de resistance, i reach into my bag for my collar. It is black leather, roughly an inch wide, and fastens like a belt at the nape of my neck. A steel chain, about half the width of the leather, is suspended slightly beneath the collar, attached by small metal grommets that rest on the pulse points on either side of my throat. There is a small, semicircular ring, for the attachment of a leash, centered at the top.
It shouldn’t draw too much attention, as i am dressed slightly punk, anyway. Yet there are always the few double-takes, the suggestive leers. i just drop my eyes, and smile my secret smile. Only He and i know it is a brand, the concrete symbol of ownership, bestowed on the slave by her Master.
i return to the car, which has been meticulously cleaned, in case W/we go out this weekend. He should have a clean and comfortable ride if He chooses not to drive. During the last half-hour of the journey, i remember the last late-night conversation. Having received my assignment beforehand, i was waiting for His call, wearing only panties and my collar.
W/we exchanged pleasantries and small talk, stories of our day, for fifteen minutes or so.
Then His voice slipped into that masterful tone, the one that always stirs my blood, and He said my name.
“Yes, Sir?” i gave the expected response, letting Him know i was prepared, ready to slip into my role and yield to His command.
“Are you ready to play for Me?”
“Oh yes, Sir,” i sighed.
i closed my eyes, imagining that my hands were His hands, or even that He was sitting opposite me, watching from the sofa (rather than two counties away), as i shamelessly obeyed His every whim.
These conversations brought self-gratification to a whole new level. Even in this, i had relinquished control.
By the time i reach His home, my skin is tingling in anticipation, and my heart is pounding like a techno bass-beat. i take a deep breath, inhale and exhale with my eyes closed, then a final glance in the rear view mirror. i gather my things, lock my doors, and make my way up the stairs, pausing on the landing to remind myself to breathe. Down to the last door on the left, a final shaky breath, and i ring the bell.
“Come in,” He calls. i close the door softly behind me, turn the lock, and turn to face Him, my heart in my throat.
He rises from the sofa, eyes smoldering. He does not speak, but His gaze, roaming hungrily over my body, says all that i need to know. Two steps towards me, and His hand is entwined in my hair. He is pulling my face to His, kissing me forcefully, branding my lips with His. He pulls away abruptly, the hand in my hair forcing me to my knees at His feet. i clasp my hands together tightly at the small of my back, head down, still reeling from the taste of his tongue in my mouth when His cock thrusts past my lips to replace it. This is why i’m here. This is where i belong. i am eager to please, to submit, to serve.
He is the Master, i am the slave, and all is right with the world.
two
i met Him on a telephone chat line.
i had been separated from my fumbling dolt of a husband (who was also a cruel, selfish, verbally and financially abusive brute), for about three months. i had moved halfway across the state to evade the clueless bastard’s grasp. i was alone in a new town, working from home, and had no social life whatsoever. i was free and happy, but lonely, and my sex life was sorely lacking. Nonexistent, in fact, and had been for nearly two years.
But i didn’t want a relationship. i had only just discovered, to my surprise, that i was quite capable of making it on my own. i wasn’t ready to relinquish my newfound independence to yet another brainless testosterone factory. i didn’t want another man telling me where i could go, what i could do, who i should or shouldn’t be friends with. And i was fed up with being the quintessential ‘good girl.’ i only wanted good times, good conversation, great chemistry, and phenomenal sex.
So, late one night, plagued by insomnia, i was watching one mindless late night tv show after another, when this commercial came on. Everyone has seen it, i suppose. You know: “Talk live with hot, local singles right now! FREE trial for guys, always free for the ladies!”
Embarrassing as it seemed at the time, i eagerly picked up the phone.
After several nights of numerous dead-end, deal-breaker conversations, chats with married men, mouth-breathing masturbators and other assorted losers, and two dates with a seemingly harmless middle-management type who later revealed himself to be a raging, racist bigot, i was ready to give up. Until another bout of insomnia, and its incipient boredom, found me cycling through the hordes of voice intros again. Just killing time, waiting for sleep to take hold.
And there He was, His voice deep and quiet and intriguing. W/we sent messages back and forth for a while, then exchanged numbers. O/our talk, on many occasions, ran late into the night. Slowly, perceptive to any reluctance, fear or resistance in my voice, He introduced me to the BDSM world. Bondage. Discipline. Sado-masochism. i was absolutely stunned to realize how enticing, how arousing it was to me. Some part of me, previously unknown to my conscious mind, responded to His innate dominance with longing, desire, and an insatiable curiosity.
three
i am bound and blindfolded. Tied, arms and legs spread wide, to what began its life as a weightlifting machine. i feel suspended, out of space, outside of time - detached.
He is there, somewhere, near me. i feel his presence, even though i am deprived of the use of my senses. i see nothing, except for the mottled velvet of my eyelids under the blindfold. i hear nothing, except for the almost primitive ebb and flow of the music issuing from the speakers behind me. i feel only the cold of the restraints on my wrists and ankles, the cushion of the carpet under my feet, taste only the air and my fear, smell only the sharp and somehow sexual scent of His expensive cigars lingering on the air. i am powerless, completely at His mercy, aching with anticipation.
He could leave me here; just walk away and leave me to eventually dangle by my wrists in the restraints. He could truly take advantage of my vulnerability, disregarding all the pre-set limits that He based primarily on my comfort level alone.
But He won’t. Vulnerable i may be, but i am also perfectly safe. Even at his most aggressive dominance, His first concern is always my comfort and pleasure. i know that, no matter how deep W/we go, no matter how intense the experience, or how far my limits have been pushed, i can stop everything, immediately. i have but to say a single word, my “safe-word,” to bring Him to an instant standstill. my trust in this - and in Him - is complete and unmitigated.
So i wait.
Maybe it is an eternity, perhaps only minutes. Who could say? Only the briefest disturbance of the air, the smallest whispering rush behind me gives a split-second warning, before His flogger - a full, long leather tassel- strikes my barely clad ass with a heavy, resounding smack. i gasp, too shocked, for the moment, to vocalize.
Smack! Smack! Smack!
He strikes my ass twice, then my lower back. He pauses for a moment, and i moan quietly, arching my back with pleasure. The blows begin again, striking faster on my back, my ass, my shoulders. One blow wraps around to sting the side of my breast through His thin white undershirt, the one He gave me to wear tonight. Suddenly, He is everywhere at once, and i am moaning freely, swaying slightly, in time with the falling blows. There is no predictable pattern to where each strike will fall. It has become a frenzy of noise and pain and excruciating pleasure. The tempo accelerates briefly, until i am biting my lip, trying not to allow my safe-word to escape.
Then He is gone again, as abruptly as He had arrived. i am left, whimpering, to catch my breath and regain my composure. i revel in the sting left behind by the narrow strips of leather. It feels like dozens of tiny burns on my back, shoulders, breasts, and thighs. It feels incredible.
i am just beginning to lean forward, straining against my bonds, straining to hear Him moving, breathing, anything, when His lips brush my ear.
“Did you think I wasn’t coming back?”
His voice is a perilous whisper, and i lean into Him with an inarticulate longing. His hand presses against the small of my back, squeezing my hips into His.
He kisses me slowly, claiming my mouth as surely as He has claimed my will.
four
O/our conversations became more and more frequent. Gradually there came a time when i felt unfulfilled going to bed at night, unless i had heard His voice.
He told me stories which fascinated me endlessly, stories of dominance and submission, Masters and slaves. Bedtime tales that sent me into sleep fantasizing myself into the seduction of each one. The fantasies were based on touch and sound alone, because i still had no face to go with that oh-so-powerful voice. Still, they were the most compelling fantasies i had ever experienced. My faceless Master.
Other conversations were what i referred to as ‘The Sexual Inquisition.’ Rapid-fire, relentless questions about what turned me on, what didn’t, what frightened me, what enticed me. i could never quite decide if He was only trying to find my boundaries, or to divine where they were weakest, where they might be flexed, pushed, or broken altogether.
He discovered that i had been spanked. That i had enjoyed the experience, but longed to take it further. That my marriage had been seven years of sex-by-numbers, and i had been made to feel unwanted, and very far from sexy. That my last relationship before marriage - six months during my senior year of high school - had been with a woman, and that i yearned to try it again. That i loved oral, was very frightened by anal, and had very large, and extremely sensitive breasts.
It was almost as if He was meticulously mapping out His sexual conquest of me, physically and mentally. In retrospect, i’m certain that is exactly what He did. And it wasn’t like i was only playing along, either. No, i felt compelled to answer, not only honestly, but thoughtfully. He delved into every corner of my deepest, darkest, most secret self. i suppose it could have felt invasive, but it never did. i wanted to open up those doors for Him, to allow Him into my essence. It felt like He belonged there. It felt like i had been left wanting in His absence.
five
He is gone again, but His breath lingers on my throat, His taste on my tongue. Much of the tension i felt has drained away. i have given in to the whole experience, feeling as though i were adrift on a raft, being swept away on the tide. It is the calm acceptance of inevitability.
The slightest caress of cold steel on my collarbone pulls me back into awareness with an almost audible Snap! It takes my mind a breathless moment to register what my body already knows:
He is holding a knife, just beneath that spot on my throat where the lifeblood pulses under the delicate skin.
W/we have discussed this. i admitted that i may like to try it, yet He has caught me entirely unprepared.
His fingers grasp the neck of His tank, the one He has given to me to wear, and the knife slices through the fabric with a titillating rasp. A delicious shudder envelopes me. Then, the knife is gone, and He grasps the slightly ragged edges of the cut fabric , ripping them apart until my breasts are fully exposed to the air, and His mercy.
“Do you have any idea how incredibly fucking sexy you are right now?”
His voice is almost a moan. A delightful frisson runs from my hairline to my instep, making me raise up on tiptoe and arch my back, my breasts reaching for Him as i cannot. i hear a desire, a raw and burning need in His voice that leaves me feeling simultaneously powerless and empowered. As though i might bring the world to its knees, even as i melt onto mine.
He draws my nipples into His mouth, one by one, teasing lightly with His lips and tongue and teeth at first. They grow taut and tingly on His warm, moist tongue, and He begins to nibble, then bite. Soon, He is practically chewing on the tender flesh as it throbs.
Gone again, and it takes me a moment to stop writhing from the heat that now radiates from both nipples, downward to tease my clit with an electric tingle. i hear the slight whisper of His bare feet on the carpet behind me, then silence.
i feel the pain - spreading outward from a tiny point on my back as it becomes pleasure - before i hear the abrupt pop! of the whip. He works me over thoroughly, striking my shoulders, my back, my ass, and my thighs. His impeccable aim pays close and merciless attention to those spots He knows to be the most sensitive. Over and over and over again, the underside of my ass, the triangles of soft flesh adjacent to my shoulder blades, and that one little spot just beneath the small of my back are set aflame, until my moans have no beginning, no middle, and no end. Again, through the moans that are nearly screams, i am biting my lip, biting back my safe-word.
“Are you okay?” He asks solicitously. His strong, warm hand, with its deceptively soft skin, rests gently on the side of my neck.
my knees are beginning to shake, and my lower lip is still caught in my teeth, so i nod slightly.
“Are you sure?”
i nod again, emphatically but still soundlessly, and the onslaught of blows resumes, accompanied still by my moans, and occasional whimpers.
six
The evening conversations continued, and i soon felt that He knew me in ways no one else ever had. All of my secret caverns had been laid bare to Him. Not only was He accepting and understanding, but He seemed to want me more than ever. And i began to feel that i needed Him.
So we planned a meeting.
i was very late. i can’t recall why, but i’m sure it had something to do with changing clothes a half-dozen times. i was so apprehensive, and so eager to please. i wanted to look perfect for Him. i was irrationally afraid that anything less might put Him off, or make Him not want me.
It seemed to take ages to drive to His apartment. i got lost on the way, and had to call Him from my cell phone. W/we had originally planned to meet in a restaurant, someplace public, but, as i said, i was late, so plans changed.
Fifteen minutes later, i was fidgeting nervously on the edge of His sofa, afraid to move, or even breathe. It’s all a bit of a blur now. i think He may have cooked dinner. We watched something on television, but i cannot imagine what it might have been. Whatever it was, it came to an end.
“What’s wrong?” He asked, watching me fidget.
“Well, um, i....i’m terrified!” i stammered thoughtlessly.
He smiled beneath those burning eyes.
“Come here.”
He said it softly, gently, but it was a command nonetheless. my pulse was pounding in my ears, my face flushed. But i went to Him. i was powerless to do otherwise.
Even then, i could no more deny Him than the tides can deny the moon.
seven
The lashes of the whip continue to fall like a drenching rain. my legs tremble, and i feel my knees wanting to buckle, but i keep biting my lip, fighting to stay on my feet. Then my safe-word rushes from my mouth like water from a bursting dam, and i collapse onto my knees. The pulleys on the weight-machine-that-was whir loudly, and my hands dangle limply from my wrists, above my head.
He removes the restraints and lowers the pulleys back into their resting place. i remain kneeling on the floor, head down, hands in my lap, a curtain of hair surrounding my face.
“Give Me your hands.”
He helps me to my feet, and holds me against his chest until i am able, again, to stand on my own. His fingers brush through my hair. i breathe in his virility, exhaling my surrender.
“you’ve done very well,” He whispers into my hair. i shiver as he leads me, blindfolded still, into the bedroom. To my reward.
But first: the show.
“On the bed,” He commands, “I want you to play for Me.”
i crawl across the bed, pushing two pillows into place, my cheeks flushed, burning. i am still very self-conscious about doing this, but hesitation would displease Him, and that is not an option.
“Remove your panties.”
i lie back on the pillows, sliding my satin thong down my legs. It feels damp as i toss it aside. My right hand slides across my breast, briefly brushing my still-throbbing nipple. Across my belly, between my legs. i am dripping wet, even though the hand that now brushes my clit is the first actual touch it has received. A soft sigh slips from my throat as my fingers begin to rub my clit in soft, slow circles.
“That looks so good. How does it feel, baby girl?”
“It feels good. Wet.”
“I can see that. Your thighs are shining with it.”
“Yes, Sir,” i moan, rubbing a little faster.
my eyes, beneath the blindfold, are closed; my face is turned to the side, so that my flaming cheek rests on the pillow. i fantasize that my fingers are His tongue. my back arches up off of the bed a little, and my fingers press harder, slipping and sliding in the wetness.
“Harder,” He commands.
Rubbing harder still, i begin to moan again. my fingers slide down over my clit and into my pussy. Two fingers tease just around the edge of the oozing hole, then pull the wetness back up around my clit, and back down to slide all the way in.
“Oh, yes. That’s My baby girl. Mmmmm. Fuck yourself for me. Fuck it hard.”
So i do, rocking my hips, slamming those two shining fingers faster and harder into my
c&%$. i try to fuck myself the way i want Him to fuck me.
“Three fingers.”
Without changing the rhythm, my index finger slides in beside the other two, and i am pounding them even faster, even harder.
“Four.”
my pinky joins the other three fingers. my entire hand is slippery-wet, and my knuckles are slamming loudly into the rim of the opening. my feet have risen off the bed, and my hips rock faster into the thrusts of my hand.
“That’s it. That’s My good little bitch. Make it feel good.”
my left hand slides down to take the place of my right, four fingers sliding effortlessly into my soaking wet pussy, and my right hand, glistening from fingertips to palm, goes back to my clit, rubbing frantically. i writhe beneath my hands on the bed, until my head feels like it is coming apart at the seams.
“Please, Sir......please.....” breathless, moaning.
“Please, what?”
“Please, may i come for you now, Sir?”
“Are you ready?” Maddeningly calm.
“Yes, Sir!” nearly screaming.
“Are you sure?”
“PLEASE!”
“Give it to Me!”
The orgasm starts with my clit, radiating outwards until my entire body is shaking, trembling violently, only my head, shoulders and heels touching the bed.
my moan turns into a gasp as He grabs my hands, ripping them away from my pussy, pinning them to the bed with His own as His cock slams into me, over and over. He has turned my simple orgasm into an endless assault, wave after wave of mind-blowing pleasure, until i fall limp beneath Him.
And still He fucks me, pounding into me like a sledgehammer. He releases my right hand, wrapping it into the hair at the nape of my neck. my head is jerked back, exposing my throat. He sinks His teeth into my flesh at the juncture of my neck and my shoulder, and my hips buck wildly into His. It feels like the skin is about to rip as he gnashes His teeth. He pulls His head back slowly, my skin stretching until it cannot stretch any more, then snapping back into place. my head is jerked to the right, and His teeth clamp onto the skin on the other side as i scream and moan and quiver. His head jerks from side to side with my skin still between His teeth, like a lion ripping apart its prey.
Then He pulls His head back, removes His hand from my hair, and sinks His nails into the soft, pale skin of my right breast. No gentle tease this time, as He squeezes and pulls and claws at first one, then the other. His cock is now teasing me, only the head sliding slowly in and out, driving me insane with the need for Him to fill me up, as only He can.
His left hand releases my right, and wraps tightly around my throat, squeezing my windpipe almost shut. my hips rise desperately, my pussy hungering for His cock as He teases me. Behind the blindfold, my eyes are beginning to roll back into my head when His right hand slams across my cheek, and i go completely wild, thrashing violently in His grip. Fireworks explode in my vision from the skillfully delivered bitch-slap as He rams His throbbing, teasing cock deep into me and lets go of my throat. i come uncontrollably, nearly unconscious and jerking like a fish out of water, making sounds somewhere between a gasp, a moan, and a sob. Exquisite. Beautiful. Pain and pleasure indistinguishable from one another.
He pulls his rigid cock out of my still-gushing wetness. Straddling my body, He works His way up until He is kneeling astride my chest. my arms are forced to my sides, between His legs.
“Lick your come off My cock,” He commands, “Lick it clean.”
i raise my head, and lap my wetness from His shaft, savoring our taste in my mouth. i wrap my lips around the swollen head and flick my tongue rapidly and repeatedly around. He grabs my hair and forces me to take every inch of Him into my mouth. Once, twice, three times, then He slams my head back down on the pillow.
“Do you want My come?”
“Yes, Sir,” i breathe.
“Are you ready for it?”
i open my mouth wide in response, and it rushes over my tongue and slides down my throat. A few tiny drops trail glistening down my chin and chest as He falls back onto the bed.
i gather the wayward drops with my fingers and suck each one slowly into my mouth until they are clean. i don’t want to waste a single drop.
“That’s My nasty little cum-slut.
“Yes, Sir.”
“My good baby girl.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Mine. All Mine.”
epilogue
Once upon a time, i said i did not want a relationship.
Things change.
Now, i belong to Him in every way. my body was His from the very beginning. Now, my heart and mind are His, also.
i am still in charge of my own life, and the direction i choose to take it is just that: my choice.
But at night, or whenever He so chooses, i revel in being whatever He wants me to be.
His whore.
His bitch.
His cum-slut.
His slave.
His baby girl.
And now, His love.
i am proud to serve my Master, to please Him.
i am proud to be His slave.
Disclaimer: This tale is NOT a work of fiction. However, any resemblance to anyone other than myself and my Master is totally coincidental, and very fortunate for the person who feels represented.
Much Love!
~bitch
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| Age: 28 |
| North manchester,
United Kingdom |
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