Submission Diary

17/March. 4:05pm.

Dear Diary.

As I write these words, I start to feel like a little girl again. My days are filled by the freedom of not having to worry about my future. I am free because my life is completely controlled by another. Perhaps some things never change.

Master instructed me to start this diary for his "personal pleasure", which is what he tells me when he doesn't want to give me his real reason. I don't know what to write. "Start at the beginning" he breathes down the back of my neck, causing the tiny hairs to stand, "Describe your self for me".

I identify my self, not as a person, but as the well loved, prized possession of my Master. His name is Kyran, but I'm not to use it except in the presence of his mother or specific businessmen. At all times I must call him Master. This is my life now, the life that I chose. My name is Myesisha, but I'd be surprised if more than a couple of my friends actually know it. I answer to my Lady as "Pet" or as "Slave", more often than I hear the name my parents gave me. I am beautiful. I sound conceited, but I'm not. For years I thought I was ugly, plain at my best. And it got me hurt, broke me apart, and gave Master reason to spit upon me. Wait. I'm getting ahead of myself.

Ok, I'm 5'9", Busty, Blonde, legs up to my armpits... Yea I can dream!

Seriously though, I'm petite, thin but by no means am I skinny. My ass is my best feature; it's curvy and supple, free from cellulite and sag. It's more rounded than I might like, but then, I'm in no position to argue. I have silky chocolate hair that falls to my waist and eyes of the same color. My skin is creamy and marred only by the occasional bruises marks and cuts that Master leaves with me as a token of my disobedience. My tits are small but perky, perfect for my frame, and enough to get a firm grip on, during the peak of passion. I expect they'll fill out more by the time puberty fully finishes. I'm a "late bloomer" 19 and looking 15, which is another notch on Master's bed post.

Young willing slaves are hard to come by these days he tells me, and it appears to be true. Of all the D/s couples we know, I look the youngest. I'm not though. Helen's master Cory only keeps his girls until they reach the age of consent, once they're legal he doesn't love them no more. Great bloke that one, I keep him in my prayers. Dear God, please let Cory be hit by a truck. Thank you. Amen.

Master has plans for me tonight, so I'll need to keep this short. I've got ten minutes Diary! I'll paste in the note I found blu-tacked to my mirror. I'm not to mention the notes ever. Another rule I don't understand.

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Pet,

At 4:30pm run yourself a bath. Add three drops of Ylang ylang essential oil, and three drops of patchouli. Be out of the bathroom no later than 5:10pm. Wearing your new red apron only, cook and serve pasta and steak, enough for seven people. If you are not waiting by the front door in "position one" when I come home, the punishment will be severe. Alexei is brining a slave by the name of Hannah in the hope I'll take her. Don't give me any reason to think she is a better choice.

Master Kyran

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I'm worried. I've never been in this position before, though it's not that uncommon, going on what I've heard. What will I wear? I wonder what she is wearing. Who else is coming? I know Alexei will bring his submissive, Grace.

Grace is hot, steaming hot. She's not good looking, not the type I go for anyway, but there is something about her that makes you want to touch her. I was allowed the chance once as part of table dance for Master and Alexei. We were shackled together, her left ankle chained to my right. I was naïve then, but she opened my eyes. I thought we were just there to dance.

I remember her sharp nails digging into the flesh of my ass, drawing me closer. She sank her teeth into my neck as she straddled my leg, her wet crotch leaving a white streak on the lace tops of my stockings. I moaned, and was rewarded by the bite of the crop on the back of my thigh for my efforts. The rules were, "anything goes", but no sounds were to be made. We continued dancing, and I felt my wetness seeping through my panties. I wanted to give Master something to remember, something I knew no slave had given him previously. Taking Grace's hands I bent my right leg close to hers and straightened my left letting it slide between her feet and along the table top, in a controlled fall. In a smooth motion as my butt cheeks met the polished wood I guided her forward onto my waiting lips, kissing and licking her through her panties. Both of our Masters let out low moans, and the pretense of dancing was lost.

I squeezed my tits and lifted them free from my bra as I nuzzled Grace's cunny silently, asking her to slip her panties away. She didn't remove them, as if she was unsure of what the consequences would be. Roughly she grabbed hold of my hair just as the sound of ripping cloth reached my ears. I bit down on my bottom lip to restrain from crying out. Evidently Alexei wanted to see more. With my skull burning I buried my face in the first pussy I'd ever tasted. It was... indescribable. I came, just from the experience. Soon after she held my hair once again, and with wild abandon rammed her juicy pussy over and over onto my face, even using my nose and chin for stimulation. How she remained standing is beyond me. Superior training, I guess. She cried out as she came, and was rewarded with a sharp crop on the bare ass for breaking the rules. The pain made her juices gush from her, dripping down my chin and onto my heaving chest.

I'm wet again, just remembering the experience. I need release. Shit! I need to get my arse into gear.

Later Diary!!

~ Myesisha

18/March. 7:30am

Dear Dairy.

It is through a haze of pain that I write in you today.

Master took me to his play room last night. Our guests had left, and I'd been in bed sleeping. "I'll be with you in under an hour pet," he had told me, "After I shower and do some light reading". I'd completely forgotten about you after the night's events Diary, but Master hadn't. He scooped me into his arms then dropped my still sleeping form straight onto the floor, when I cried out he hauled me to my feet and pushed me all the way to his play room.

Disgust was written all over his face as he shoved my hands and head into the ancient looking stocks, locking me in place. "Master what is it?" I asked finally waking completely. I knew I was in trouble. His answer was a cold hand smacking hard down onto my bare bottom. And again. And again. It stung more than usual, and that's when I realized how cold it was. I was shaking. The air con was on, I realized. For him to use my biggest hate, cold, against me I knew he was serious. Smack! Smack! Smack! He used his open hand at full force to deliver each stinging blow. I was surprised when he stopped at eight. Four hard spanks each cheek. Then he walked out, leaving me there to shiver and contemplate what I might have done wrong. I figured it must have been something at dinner. I'd been so so careful though... What could it be?

I stood there in the buff trembling. My muscles started to cramp and spasm from the cold and having to hold the same position. Pain ripped through my body, especially down the muscles in my back as they locked up and jerked. I began to cry. There was nothing in the room, just my pain. I didn't see the two-way mirror monitoring me, I didn't see the hooks and shelves displaying cuffs and whips, vibrators and clamps. I didn't see the bright oriental cushions on the floor in the corner or the massage table. There was only burning blue pain. I felt like I was being repeatedly stabbed, but I knew I wasn't because there was no warm path left by blood on my skin. I became irrational after a while. The claws of panic scored my mind. "He's going to leave me here forever" I thought to myself. "I'm going to die here, cold and alone."

I didn't hear him come back in, I didn't feel his presence. He must have switched off the air con, but by that stage I was too far gone to tell. He threw a bucket of barely warm water over me, shocking me. I screamed because it burned. It was so much warmer than my skin I felt like he'd tipped boiling oil over me. Tears ran freely down my face. "Master!" I cried. "Master, tell me how I've failed you, so I may never do it again!" He turned and walked to the bench across from me. Desperately I wailed "Master, I beg you! Tell me how I can make it up to you! Let..." I was cut off by the force of my diary, this diary, slapping me across the face. The words I'd written about Cory had been highlighted in pink. "This," Master said softly, "Is not really appropriate. I've given you a non-visible punishment because it is your personal diary after all, and as such no one is going to see your words, but I want you to try and limit this kind of thing in the future."

I feel like I've been working out at the gym for six hours straight. But I know I deserved it. Discipline makes me feel loved; he cares whether or not I'm a good person. I'd be anyone, do anything to please him. Maybe that's why he didn't trade me in for Hannah last night.

I must go Diary, Master is calling me. I'll write about last night's dinner soon as I can.

~ Myesisha