Why I Became A Slave

When I think back on my experiences as a slave one thing sticks out in my mind. There were, of course, many things that went through my head during those first few years. But it is the fear that brings me back. Absolute, mind numbing fear. The kind of fear one feels when they are faced with a precipice and they know that there is no longer a way back. The only way is down. It is that step that is the hardest thing, that first step. That fear has never left me completely and I doubt it ever will.

I hope it doesn't because it feeds me, it gives me a demon to fight. This fear has been transformed over the years by the tender (and not so tender) ministrations of my Master. It has helped to bring forth an emotion that had always been with me but I had never acknowledged: Desire. At first it was simply the desire to experience sex. But my Master saw it for what it truly was: a desire for debasement, debauchery, and darkness. A desire to become soiled, raunchy, naughty. To become everything that I had been taught not to be: a slave.

Being a slave isn't simply a session of dominance and submission to me. It is a lifestyle. It is something I had always wanted but had pushed away because of societies conditioning. And all the while I had wondered why I was unhappy. Without a Master I felt like something was missing from myself. Finding my Master changed all that.

My Master is everything to me. He is a disciplinarian, a boyfriend, a lover and a confidant. He knows me better than I know myself, and I like it that way. Even when I feel the sting of a whip against my tender flesh I know that he loves me. The soreness that remains reminds me of the lesson and I grow stronger with the knowledge he gives me.

Pain is a wonderful teacher. It comes in many guises and can be fleeting or last for days. Physical pain is like a bolt of lightening against a pitch-dark sky. For a brief moment it sears like fire, then only a burning echo remains to remind you of the flash. Whether it is a spanking, a whipping, or the exquisite pleasure of a butt plug, pain is always present. I grew accustomed to this form of teaching quickly, and I grew to enjoy things I never thought possible. Bondage was like a playground for me, a wonderland of sensations that I had always been taught were anathema. The pull of ropes against my clit, my breasts bound to attention while my ass filled with a plug while a ball gag stretched my mouth. These feelings and more taught me so much about myself, about my desires and my limits. Through these methods my Master taught me that I had no limits. I could do anything as long as it was with him. As I grew bolder and more trusting he taught me how to expand my boundaries and to cross the line of fear that always held me back.

I reveled in who I was becoming. I knew my relationship was not what normal people would consider healthy. But for me it was the best medicine I could have taken. My Master took a self-conscious, miserable and terrified little girl and slowly but surely turned her into a beautiful, confident and hungry woman.

When I first met my Master, I had no idea what submission, true submission, was about. I had heard stories about S&M but had never really thought about exploring it. Up until that point I had never had the opportunity, never having had a boyfriend. Of course I thought about sex, I had been masturbating since I was in elementary school. But my complete lack of self-confidence kept me from opening up to anyone. Deep down I knew there was a hunger burning, but for what I did not know. It took a chance meeting with the man who would become my Master to open my eyes.

My Master is so patient. Even then, when I was innocent and still a virgin he was so careful and gentle. I remember the first time he touched my breasts and kissed me. I had never really kissed a boy before then. I remember the fear I had that I might not be good enough, that he wouldn't enjoy it because I was new. After that, I couldn't get enough. Everyday I would come over and he would take me a little further. I still remember the feeling of his teeth against my nipples for the first time. The jolt that passed through me every time he would bite and lick them. His mouth all over my body and my cunt, his tongue delving into my cunt and his teeth finding my clit made me shiver in anticipation for more. I began to feel the desires inside me awaken. I remember feeling wicked and loving it.

That wickedness increased as the months went by. I loved the sensation of his fingers spreading my cunt apart and rubbing my juices all over my skin. His fingers probing and pushing inside me. I came for him quickly and unabashedly. I felt like a whore as I writhed on his bed; his fingers buried deep inside me. I loved the feel of his tongue as it explored my cunt and the taste of myself when he kissed me. All of these sensations took me closer to my initiation, to the point of no return. It was then that he introduced me to bondage and an addiction to submission that I would never recover from.

First it started with ropes and handcuffs. Even these simple tools elicited extreme responses from my body. I couldn't remember ever being wetter than when I was first tied to my Masters bed. I loved the feeling of helplessness and danger and it fed my hunger like nothing before. I wanted more. My Master knew what he was doing though and he controlled my hunger, always taking small steps so that I would not get overwhelmed. I remember feeling the cold metal against my skin and the clink of the cuffs against the bedpost. Feeling his hands on me and in me as I struggled against the restraints, tasting him as he pushed his cock into my mouth. Even thinking about those first experiences makes me wet and hungry.

The next thing my Master introduced me to was spanking. I had never really thought of spanking as sexual before. The sting of the crop and the slap of the paddle taught me how to relish pain and to want it and ask for it. Being forced to my knees, hands cuffed behind my back, begging my Master to spank me, whip me, anything to bring the feeling back. Eventually, I didn't even need to be fucked in order to come, the paddle and crop showed me that there are other ways to feel pleasure. Now, I can't imagine ever not enjoying the tortures my Master gifts me with. They are more pleasurable than anything I have ever imagined.

Yes, pain is a gift. It reminds us that we are alive and teaches us how much we have to lose. It opens our eyes and shows us what we need to see not what we want to see. Being a slave has taught me how to take pleasure in the stings and burns of punishment. Physical pain is only one hurdle to be jumped though. It was another type of pain, humiliation, which I was to learn about next.

Humiliation is something I had known well as a child. Having been the class outcast taught me the lessons of cruelty well. The idea of using that to give pleasure to someone was completely alien to me. I understood physical pain, but emotional pain terrified me. Even with this, my Master was patient. He explained everything to me as I became a better submissive. I learned humility by being denied orgasms while my Master fucked my mouth. I learned to relieve myself wherever and whenever he wished it. I waited for him on hands and knees and licked his boots when he came home from work. At first, the burning humiliation and degradation I felt made it difficult for me to obey. I received many punishments as I learned my place. I still remember the soreness of my ass after a good whipping. Even while I was confused and afraid though, my Master would hold me when I cried and explain why needed to do what I did. Oftentimes the explanation was simple; "Because I wish it," was reason enough to obey. I remember only wanting to please him, my own pleasure came from seeing his. At times, I no longer needed to come as long as he did.

This new lesson of humiliation drew me to trying so many things that I never even thought of as sexual. The first lesson took place in the bathroom. It was late at night and we were in bed. I had to piss so badly and Master wouldn't let me use the bathroom.

"I want you to piss right here slave, right on my hand. Right now," he said as his hand stroked and filled my cunt. Propriety held me back for a second before I gave up and felt warm wetness trickle down my leg onto the mattress. Sobs wracked my body as the old feelings of propriety and cleanliness left me and I realized that I was free. Free from a prohibition that kept me chained since I was a child. It felt wonderful to lose that weight from my shoulders. My Master covered me in my own piss and I licked his fingers clean. Then he rewarded me by filling me with his fingers and pumping and reaming away at my cunt causing orgasm after orgasm until I was exhausted. The cries of lust and hunger I made that night still ring in my ears. After I washed up we both fell asleep exhausted and very pleased with my progress. I remember the smile on my Master's face that night and I knew that I never wanted to let my own fear rule me again.

Fear and Desire both pulling at me in two different directions. Those two emotions always play against each other in my mind. As time goes on, Desire is winning out over fear and can feel a whole new freedom for myself where I can express my sexuality freely and without shame. My story is one of emotion. My journey has taken me from anguish to elation and back again. I hope that it may teach someone about what it is to be a slave and help them to find themselves in its darkness.