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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.
