How I Became a Slave
My name is Katie. I'm a single woman. I met Master John when I was in my late twenties at a BDSM club fifteen years ago. I was exploring the lifestyle, and he was watching the scene on stage.
I was instantly captivated by the scene I had walked into. A woman was flogged while sitting on a Symbian. She was being brought to near the height of sexual release, only to be brought down by the pain of her flogging. Over and over until she climaxed so loudly. When it ended, the woman was released and held in the most loving embrace I'd ever seen.
I was transfixed, unable to move, letting what I'd watched wash over me. I was startled by a man's voice behind me asking if I wanted to join them in their next performance.
"No," I said without much conviction.
He said, "You would find it cathartic, having an orgasm that big." Little did I know I'd be his just a few weeks later.
Holding out his hand, he said, "I'm Master John."
I shook his hand, saying, "Katie." "Nice to meet you, Master John." "Why do they call you Master?"
He looked at me with deep green eyes and said, "I'm a dominant."
We talked until the club closed at midnight; walking to the door, he handed me his card, "My card, in case you insist on performing."
That night changed my life. I had a career, felt independent, in control of my destiny, the literal definition of a feminist Boss Babe. That night started the cracks in my life that would lead me to even greater heights.
I had an unusually stressful week, was near tears at work, had no one to comfort me at home, and was heading for a nervous breakdown.
I couldn't rely on my friends; the same company employed them. The talk would get back to my superiors, tarnishing my status. I was at my wit's end when I stumbled across John's card.
I called the number on the card. John answered, "Hello."
I said, "John, I am so stressed and don't know what to do."
He asked, "Are you calm enough to drive?"
I answered, "Yes."
He said, "Drive to my address now," and hung up.
When I arrived at his home, I knocked on his door. A beautiful woman answered the door. I was taken aback. This woman was nude, like, no clothes at all, not even shoes. She said, "You must be Katie." "Please come in. Master is waiting for you."
After closing the door, she said, "Follow me." I walked behind one of the most perfect asses I'd ever seen. When we reached a closed door, she knocked. When a muffled "Come in" came from the room, she opened the door, walked to the middle, stood, legs slightly spread apart, hands clasped behind her back, looking at the floor, and said, "Master, slave Katie is here."
What the fuck, slave Katie? I'm no one's slave, and why hasn't this bitch left the room yet?
John looked up from some document on his desk, "Thank you, slave Mary." He motioned me forward. "Slave Katie, you will address me as Master John, Master, or Sir, do you understand?"
He didn't raise his voice but spoke softly, driving his message clearly through me. The look he gave me could have killed a lesser human.
"Slave Katie, why did you call me?"
I told him about my week, how stressed I was, and that I had no one to talk to. "I can't continue like this. I am so stressed."
John rose from his chair, walked around his desk, and approached me.
He looked at me, looked at my hair, touched it, looked at my face, placed a hand on my chin, turned my head to the right, then left, put his hands on my shoulders, dropped his hands, and said, "Raise your arms shoulder height."
Confused, I raised my arms; he put his hands on my waist, pinching the little bit of fat I'd gained, "Slave Mary, she's about twenty pounds overweight."
I was shocked; how could he do this? Why was I letting him do this?
He walked behind me, gripping my ass, and squeezed. "Slave Mary, make that twenty-five pounds."
He ran his hands down the outside of my legs, squeezing as he went down but not amending my weight, then started running his hands up the inside of my legs. I was about to tell him to stop when he approached my vagina, but he stopped before he reached it; he said, "Pantyhose."
He walked around to face me again. Waving his hand toward a chair, he said, "Slave Katie, please have a seat."
I couldn't believe myself; I hadn't said a word during his assault on my body. I moved swiftly to sit as he returned to his chair.
He handed me the document he'd been looking at when I first walked in. At the top, it said Total Power Exchange Slave Contract.
He told me to read the document and asked Mary, "Slave Mary, bring us three glasses of wine." "My favorite, one for yourself, and Moscato for slave Katie."
Mary said, "Yes, Master." Then walked out of the room.
I was appalled reading the contract; how could anyone agree to this stuff? But I said, "Do you want me to do this?"
Slave Mary returned with the wine, placing John's glass in front of him, handing me mine, and returned to her previous stance, only holding a glass of wine.
John said, "No, I don't expect you to sign it; I only want to know if you will."
Suddenly, I realized that my stress was gone. I'd been so focused on him.