I am a slave. My life, my body, my will are not my own. But shed no tears for me. There is no greater calling than service.
I was not born a slave. I surrendered my life willingly. I would not change my state with kings. How did I come to this life, this joy? Here is the tale of the night my life was changed forever and I became the property of the finest Mistress a man could ever know.
I worked downtown and shared a ride home sometimes with a sexy dyke who works nearby. We used to see each other at Mike's Diner a couple of times a week. After a few times of saying hi and such, we started to have lunch together when our schedules matched up.
She introduced herself to me as Miss Oatlash. It was months before I learned her first name. I was really hot for her, but she had been in a relationship with a woman for years. Because we were "safe"; the sultry lesbian and the big, former stuntman, we became confidants and shared the stories of all our sexual adventuring during the long commute home.
One day, about a year and a half ago, she began to talk about the lingerie and sex- toy party she was having that Saturday night. I, of course, begged to be a fly on the wall. She said no. It became a running bit with us, with me coming up with all sorts of clever plans that would allow me to witness the sight of her and all her female friends trying on bras and giggling over big dildos. I even offered to dress in drag and go undercover, though a 6'5", 230 pound broad was bound to stand out. She continued to deny me.
I had resigned myself to waiting to hear about the party from her afterwards when, on our ride home that Friday, she said I could attend. On one condition. I quickly said,
"Anything."
"I'm glad you feel that way," she said, "but listen to the condition first. From the moment you enter my home, you will obey my any and every command. Without question, without hesitation."
It made sense that she would want to be protective of her friends and want to know that I would leave instantly if she felt I was making them uncomfortable. I quickly agreed. She waved her finger in my face.
"Not so fast. Be sure you know what you're agreeing to. Whatever I ask, whenever I ask it. You will obey me without question, without hesitation. If you were to promise and not deliver, I could never trust you again."
"I would never risk that," I said. "I give you my word: Without question, without hesitation."
She told me to come by at 8:30.
The night of the party I arrived on time and saw no cars parked around her house. At my knock, she opened the door, concealing herself behind it.
Her home was lovely, decorated for the evening in a tasteful but festive fashion. The living room furniture had been pulled back slightly to create a performance area on the empty section of carpet. Card tables held the selection of exotic merchandise.
She closed the door behind me and I turned to see her dressed in an outfit that nearly dropped me to my knees.
She was all in black. She wore knee-high, lace-up combat boots; fishnet hose with a leather garter belt; cut-off jeans, cut so high her magnificent ass was exposed and her hairy bush feathered out in front; a leather halter, studded with spikes, and a black leather officers cap. The badge on the front of the cap was three chain links. Before I could speak, she held a leather-clad finger to my lips.
"You are in my home now. In my home, you will call me Mistress. You will not speak unless questioned. You will obey my every word or whim or you will leave. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
She slapped me, and not too lightly. I felt my cheek burn. I felt my cock swell.
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, Mistress. I gave you my word."
"Better. You may stay."
She handed me an empty grocery sack from the stack by the door.
"Strip naked. Put your clothes in that. Then present yourself to me."
I did as she commanded. I put my clothes in the bag and stood before her. My cock, filled with lust, hung between my big, low-slung balls. I held in my stomach to look my best. She looked me over like I was a used car.
"You will do. You will do just fine. Now get on all fours, mutt."
I dropped down. She turned her back to me and bent over, her hands on her knees, her ass in my face. And what an ass! Her cheeks spread, her pussy covered only by the thin, frayed strip of black denim, her bush curling around it.
"Sniff my ass, mutt."
I did, savoring the scent of her sweat and her wet pussy. I was intoxicated. The scent of her musk and the perverse thrill of surrendering to her overtook me and I fell for her hard. I was hers. I was her slave. I kissed her on her puckered bung.
She jumped up and turned to me, her hands on her hips, and a look of outrage on her face.
"I told you to sniff. I never said you could touch me! You must be punished for your insolence. Come with me."
I followed her to the bathroom. In the old, claw foot tub was a set of handcuffs, linked through the exposed pipe to the faucet. At her commands, I lay in the tub on my back, my hands above my head. She cuffed me to the pipe. I felt for the release on the trick cuffs and found none. These were real. I was at her mercy.
She took a potted plant from the shelf and set it on the closed lid of the toilet. There was a sign attached. It read, "Out of order. If you have to go, use the slave."
She left me there to stare at the sign and wonder what the night would bring.
Cold and naked in the tub, I could only listen as the guests arrived. I heard them laughing and oohing and ahhing over the toys. Ani DiFranco and Paula Cole played on the stereo. After about half an hour my mind was filled with lusty fantasies about what was going on just down the hall.
Then the first guest came to the bathroom. She was a voluptuous Latina, with heavy breasts and thick, black curls. She was wearing a lacy teddy. She read the sign on the plant, turned and laughed at me.