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This material is presented as adult entertainment and is not intended for any person under the age of eighteen years. While every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this book, the author assumes no responsibilities for errors or omissions, or for damages resulting from the use of information contained herein. All characters and descriptions contained herein are purely fictitious.
Prologue
My name is of no importance to these journals. My history is that of almost any young woman of my generation. There is nothing startling or unusual in it indicating a predilection for the dark side. My place of birth, my childhood, my time at the university, these are all totally immaterial. This is not a memoir or a biography.
If you continue to read, you will have to accept the experiences I was forced to record at face value. I give no explanations or justification for what my life has become. My journals relate what was done to me over the weeks of my training as a slave to Sir, the man who was my Master. I was instructed by him to keep a hand written record of my training and to include the feelings and emotions that my ordeals aroused in me. I hated writing about what I was enduring at first but as the weeks passed my time with pen and paper became a solace to me.
Recently, I decided to publish my journals. I am not a writer and when I set down the accounts of my ordeals, I often wrote in a form that has been described as 'stream of consciousness'. At other times I employed a personal form of shorthand. In order that my experiences and feelings be presented in a more easily read form, I sent these journals to the author to prepare and present as he chose with the proviso that both I and Sir remain anonymous.
Soon after my relationship with Sir began, I was pierced and marked. My nipples were adorned with rings. My labial lips also sported Sir's jewelry. I came to barely remember the embarrassment of the piercings. They became so much a part of me that I scarcely noticed them unless their movement stimulated me or they were incorporated by Sir into my pain or pleasure. On the surface and to all appearances, I was my Master's true slave. All was not as it seemed though.
During this early time with Sir, before the training sessions began, there were instances of confusion. Moments of anger and doubt. I often wondered if my nature was truly submissive or if I was merely playing at something beyond my understanding. Did my ultimate pleasure lie in totally pleasing another? At times, I found myself rebelling against the subjugation of my individuality.
I was periodically uncomfortable with the feeling of being absorbed by a stronger will. Needless to say, these displays of willfulness displeased Sir. I was unhappy as well. It was a situation that demanded resolution. I was told that I must either prove that I truly belonged to him or that I must leave. I was asked to give myself body and soul into the hands of professional Masters for the full duration of their course. I would have to present myself to them twice a week for individual training.
What had once been a working farm on the outskirts of town had been converted into a school for slaves. By committing myself wholeheartedly to their program it was assured that I would come face to face with my inner self once and for all. It was my strong desire for an end to the uncertainty that had finally convinced me to pledge my obedience to the program.
And what of my Master you may be asking yourselves? He shall remain as vague and shadowy to you as he was real and all powerful to me. How he found me and how he bound me to his service are matters that shall remain private. It may seem incongruous that I so jealously guard these small details of my life, while I lay bare my soul in the pages ahead. The explanation lies in precisely that fact though. This is not the story of me; it is the story of my soul. It no longer seems strange to me that agony and ecstasy are two sides of the same coin. Every morning following my commitment to the Masters' course, that coin spun through the air for me and I learned to live by the face it showed.
The First Session
I was given a set of instructions to follow in preparation for each training session.... I was instructed to shave myself bare...... my underarms, my legs, even the hair from my mound, my cunt and my ass. I had been given a list of items to purchase as well: A two quart enema bag with a hook for hanging; a douche nozzle, which is longer and fatter than the standard enema nozzle; adult glycerin suppositories and lastly, packets of Castile soap flakes.
Next came the hardest and almost torturous part of my preparation...I had been warned that it would be a two hour process...First, I had to insert three glycerin suppositories into my rectum and hold them inside for at least twenty minutes. No less, no matter how bad the cramping got. The instructions suggested setting a timer so I wouldn't cheat. At the end of that long twenty minutes I was allowed to relieve myself on the toilet. Next I had to fill the enema bag with two quarts of warm water and mix in a packet of soap flakes. I hung the bag on the towel rack and then knelt down on the floor. I applied lube to the nozzle and worked it all the way into my ass. With my cheek to the floor and my ass raised, I released the clamp. I stopped the flow as necessary when the cramping got bad or I felt like I couldn't hold anymore. Once that feeling passed, I continued until the whole bag was empty. I held this solution for a full ten minutes and left the nozzle in to help hold in the soapy water. I was allowed and even encouraged to roll onto my side or back and massage my belly to let the solution work deep inside me.
This proved to be very difficult....that much water had filled me so full that my belly looked huge. The soapy solution caused such bad cramping that I thought I'd die. I didn't think there was any way I could continue to hold it all in. The cramps kept hitting in waves and all I could do was massage my belly and roll and clench as tight as I could the whole time. I cried with the pain and the urgency, fearing all the while that I would fail to hold it in long enough.
Somehow I managed to survive the painfully long waiting period. I was so swollen that I had to cradle my belly in my hands as I rose to the toilet. It took as much as thirty minutes for all of the soapy solution to work its way out. Finally I filled the bag with warm water and added one teaspoon of salt. I had to take the full two quarts of water and hold it for yet another twenty minutes to rinse out the last of the soapy solution. When at last, I expelled this, I was considered sufficiently clean inside for the Masters. I did feel completely cleaned out...empty inside and pounds lighter. I didn't know how I did it or how I would find the courage to go through this twice a week for the training. Of course, after that I was also expected to bathe the outside of my body thoroughly. It took longer than the 2 hours and so I had to rush around getting ready to leave.
I managed to finally locate the farm after several wrong turns and arrived at a quarter till five. My heart was pounding and I was shaking so badly that I just sat in the car for several minutes, but then knowing that I had given my word, that this was my commitment.....I got out and entered the barn through the small side door.
A man who introduced himself as Master James met me there and it was almost like he had been standing there waiting. I wondered if he had been watching me, if he had felt my indecision as I had hesitated in the car. He motioned me to follow him down a short hallway and led me into a small changing room.
"Take off all your clothes, slut," he said, "and then come into the dungeon."
He smiled a little bit when he said it and I felt better. I didn't say anything, just kept my eyes lowered and nodded. When he left I slipped out of my clothes and laid them over a little bench that was there. Not wanting to give myself time to think or reconsider, I did as directed and opened the same door Master James had used when he left me.
The inside of the barn was huge and filled with all kinds of contraptions.....things I'd never seen before but had read about.......hooks, pulleys and rings hung from the rafters and big eye bolts stuck up out of the floor and the walls. There were saw horses, some padded and some not, padded posts, benches and tables. I saw several big crosses and even a stainless steel medical examination table. A raised platform that appeared to be a stage of some sort. In front of it were rows of chairs where an audience might be seated. There was like....well like a whole bathroom. It was not enclosed though and the tub, toilet and all were exposed. Spotlights were everywhere in the ceiling and one turned on me when I stepped into the room. Master James stepped back through the same door that I'd just come through. I stood there, waiting and taking in these frightening surroundings when, suddenly, my arm was grabbed and I was jerked back into the changing room.
"On your knees, girl," He almost screamed it. "You filthy slut, is this how you think you can leave your filthy slut mess?"
"W...w...what, Sir? I don't understand?"
He was pointing at my clothes on the bench but I didn't understand what I had done wrong. He gave me this big hairy lecture about how clothes are a privilege and that it took a Master's hard earned money to keep me in clothes and that they were always to be folded neatly when I wasn't wearing them.
"You will be punished for this and for raising your eyes to me and for speaking. You just earned yourself three lashes of my belt. Now you crawl back out there and you do it NOW!"
I started crawling fast as I could back out the door. Master James followed me, nudging me to go faster with the toe of his boot. He directed me to a small padded bench that was just a foot tall. He told me to lay over it face down and spread my legs. I could already feel the tears on my face as I lay over the bench. With his boot he kept kicking side to side between my legs until they were wide open. I laid there; shaking....trying to hold in the sobs...waiting for what would happen next. I heard him unbuckling his belt and heard it slipping out of the belt loops of his jeans.....for a moment my mind just went blank.
"Tell me why you are being punished.....Answer me, girl! That's one extra lash for the delay."
"Um...b...because I didn't fold my clothes....." I finally stammered out an answer, half crying, "and um..... because I looked at you... and because I spoke without asking permission."
"At least you're not stupid. There may be hope for you." He said. "Each and every time that you're punished, you will count every swat out loud and thank the Master that sees fit to correct you. Then you must ask for the next swat. Understand, girl? If you hesitate in the least or forget then the punishment starts from the beginning again."
Before I could even respond he brought the belt down hard over my ass.
