I Became A Chaste Slave To My Ex

Author's Note

This is my first attempt at writing and publishing a story. Especially in English, which is not my first language.

Please be lenient with me. Any feedback, suggestions, ideas, comments, remarks and constructive critique are appreciated. All of the characters in this fictional story are adults.

CHAPTER ONE

From EX to my OWNER and KEYHOLDER

Spring was slowly making its way into our lives, although the days and the nights were still cold. Anthea gοt up this spring morning feeling moody and frowning, yawned and stretched lazily in bed before getting up to make coffee and roll her first cigarette of the day feeling her mouth bitter. She had recently taken up smoking again despite the health problems it was causing her. A sign of the pressure and stress she was feeling. As she smoked sipping her coffee looking out the window her mind was racing.

"What am I doing wrong? How is it possible that I have helped so many couples move forward in their relationship and I am so weak, impulsive or even unlucky in my relationships? How is it possible that I give body, soul, love, care, trust and yet all my relationships end in infidelity, cheating behind my back, lying, hypocrisy?"

She extinguished the cigarette in the ashtray, stamping it down hard to vent her bitterness and anger. "And now him," she thought sadly, another ending, another wound in her soul. "He seemed the ideal boyfriend, intelligent, kind, educated, successful, generous, financially independent, sharing common interests and beliefs, and then? The hypocrisy, the lies, his duplicitous nature, his incompetence in bed, the sleepless nights crying that she is not a desirable woman while it all had to do with his own ideals, his insecurities, his sickening abnormalities."

Anthea shook her head again in disbelief, still unable to believe his words. Become her slave!!! Yes that's what he offered her, he had the audacity to utter that shameless desire." Anthea She admired her own restraint for not standing up and shouting at him, for not exposing his perversion to everyone, for not lashing out with vile words. Instead she behaved with dignity, got up, and left the café. But he persisted--calling her, waiting outside her house and her work. "What the hell does he want from me now? We just broke up... Why suggest such absurdity? How did I not sense his twisted nature? How was I so blind?"

Unable to answer her questions, she lit another cigarette. As she smoked a new message from him appeared to her cell phone, she read it irritated and impatient, he asked her to meet again, she preferred not to reply and keep it civil.

Anthea was kind, good-natured and always forthcoming. But, there was something else beneath the surface. A hardness, a toughness, a resilience and a determination rarely seen in others. She was a woman who knew what she wanted and would not tolerate nonsense.

Meanwhile, far to the north in the big city, I--Richard--immersed in my thoughts, my unspoken desires, and my guilt, sent another message to Anthea, hoping against hope for a reply. Weeks had passed since I had spoken to her honestly and openly for the first time since we were a couple about who I really am and what I want in my life and from her. Life without her was empty and lonely. I was lost in a sea of guilt and self-criticism, but at the same time I felt a strange attraction to the idea of fully submitting to her.

This feeling, this need to be under her authority, was nothing new to me. I had been submissive to women since birth, and this nature of mine became more and more pronounced as time went on. I knew that I wanted Anthea to accept me as her slave, to submit fully to her authority, but she didn't seem ready to accept that. She was a woman who believed in the equality of people and their freedom.

However, I felt and finally experienced that there was something deeper in her. An authoritarian aspect of her character, a need to control, to have things her way. She was generous, but also stubborn. She was very smart and could manipulate me easily when she wanted to, with a subtle malice when she was angry. Even playfully, she would make mean and ironic remarks about my past mistakes.

It took weeks to muster the courage to propose my idea. I knew it wouldn't be easy. When I finally did, I was nervous. We met in a small café, away from crowds, and I hesitantly began.

"I know I hurt you very badly," I said, looking her in the eyes. "I know I wasn't honest, and I don't deserve your forgiveness. But I want to ask you something...I want you to make me your slave."

Anthea laughed. An ironic, yet playful laugh that made me feel even more embarrassed.

"My slave? So what exactly are you asking for? To have you do what I tell you to do? To be under my command?" she said with a look that seemed to seek the truth but also showing a surprise or something else I couldn't put my finger on.

"Yes," I answered without hesitation. "I want to be under your command. I want to be yours, to do whatever you ask."

For a moment, her eyes narrowed and her gaze hardened. "You know," she said at last, "that I don't believe in submission. That people are equal and that no one should control and take advantage of another."

"I know that," I replied calmly. "but you will not take any advantage of me, I offer myself at my will. I feel that you like to be in control, that you have an authoritarian spirit that makes you want to be the one who makes the decisions."

Her eyes flashed with anger. "First, look up what 'Mistress' means; it has nothing to do with me. It's one thing to make decisions and another to exploit someone." She shook her head, clearly disapproving.

Her reaction was exactly what I expected, but I hoped she would see things differently. I knew she had elements of authoritarianism, but I also knew she was a person who believed in equality. I wanted to show her that this need of mine was not only for me, but also for her, an opportunity to discover another side of herself.

"Please Anthea I need this, I feel incredibly guilty. It's an outlet for me to pay for my mistakes. To atone to you. I know you're generous and kind, but there's that aspect of you that wants to be in control. I want to give you that power."

"Power? Just because I'm pursuing a doctorate, don't confuse that with dictatorship," she retorted, her voice edged with sarcasm. "What you're proposing goes against everything I believe in."

I told her softly "beliefs, circumstances and people change you know."

"To a point. But my slave? You're crazy!" she cried, eyes flaming. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!"

I expected that reaction, but I had to try. I felt that if I explained my reasons, I could talk her out of it. "Anthea, I'm not just saying that," I began to say in a calm voice, trying to reassure her. "I know I've made mistakes, but this time I'm determined. I want to serve you, to take care of your house, to cook, to clean, to hand wash your clothes. Even to give you all my property, everything I own, my salary, for you to use as you wish."

Her gaze hardened. "I don't believe you," she said, her eyebrow raised. "And you know very well that I don't do anything for money. I could never do it for that."

For a moment, she was silent. I knew the idea of my offering had started a conflict within her. On the one hand, she'd always had this sense of fairness and belief in equality, and the idea of submission infuriated her. On the other hand, her intelligent eyes were definitely assessing the situation.

"I know you won't do it for the money," I said. "But I know there's a side of you inside that might enjoy the idea. Maybe you won't admit it, but I've seen it in your eyes."

Anthea's gaze burned. "You have no idea who I am," she said, voice thick with disgust and disappointment. She jumped to her feet and walked away, disappearing into the darkness.

The next few weeks were full of uncertainty. She was a woman who believed in what was right and just, and my proposal seemed to violate her principles. I kept pestering her, calling, trying to explain my position. I wanted to show her that my request was not just for me, but for her as well. I tried to explain to her that this would give her the opportunity to explore her own power and authority, to discover a side of her that she might not have known. I wrote her a detailed letter in which I explained who I was, why I felt this way, what I could offer her, my most intimate thoughts and fantasies. I never got a reply.

Anthea's thoughts ran fast as she evaluated my letter. At first she was about to delete it without reading it, but her innate curiosity won out. She started to read it but at some point she stopped and closed the computer, her head buzzing and hurting. "How sick and twisted... how irrational he is and he seemed so mature and balanced. Looks can be deceiving after all," she thought. Later that afternoon, she read the rest, then reread it, hardly believing her eyes. She felt irritated, frustrated with her choices. Some scenarios replayed in her mind, making her feel strangely warm. At the same time, other parts of the letter filled her with disgust. In the evening, still not knowing why, she felt moisture between her legs, her hand unconsciously began to gently and slowly rub her wet pussy and she finished using her Hitachi vibrator. In the morning enjoying her smoking coffee she read my letter again.

"He's a good guy," she thought, "despite his twisted ideas. He has potential, and it would be a shame to let him throw his life away like this. Maybe I could help him overcome these ridiculous thoughts and this submissive mentality. Heal him. Make him a normal person. Because, truth be told, if he didn't have these strange ideas, he would really be an ideal companion and husband.'

Read again a passage from my letter. 'I am determined to serve a woman, this time I will not pretend to be anything other but a slave. You are the only one I respect and appreciate. I want us to make this journey together.'

She knew he was determined. "What's his future?" she wondered. "He might end up in the hands of another woman, a predator who would exploit him, take everything from him, and discard him when she's done. But with me, he would at least be safe. I wouldn't exploit him, and I'd be fair."

Anthea shook her head, though she wasn't entirely convinced of her thoughts. Then she smiled at the prospect of never having to deal with housekeeping again, she hated it. 'I could make time for my studies and activities, my interests, my social obligations.'

Anthea took a deep breath, and seemed to consider her next steps. There was a hesitation in her eyes, it was a conflict of emotions.

'Maybe it's an interesting challenge to test my limits' she thought. He always has a way of making things more interesting than they need to be, and I like that about him. I could train him to be the perfect companion. A man who will know exactly what I want, when I want it and how I want it. Maybe I'll finally enjoy the power play with him.'

At that moment Anthea knew she was treading on thin ice, she had begun to see things from a new perspective, but she was still not sure. She picked her phone and dialed my number.

"Morning Richard.... I'm fine, you?.... In the evening I will come to your place to talk for something... yeah see you..."

Her call caught me off guard and upset me. My mind began to work feverishly. I cleaned and tidied my house as best I could. I bought her favorite cookies and made the coffee. As the time approached my heart was pounding in my chest. When she came there was an electrified atmosphere, awkwardness and an icy silence until I served her the coffee and cookies. She lit a cigarette and took a sip of the coffee; we made small talks to break the ice. It didn't help a lot. We both knew it was the moment of truth.

"You are incredible, you know that? You always manage to make me think twice." She told me...

I coughed to clear my throat, my voice wasn't coming out easily. "Anthea, I know it's not easy for you to decide this. I know you always tend to think things through logically and not let your emotions get the best of you. But think about it, it might be a new experience, something that you haven't tried before."

"I thought a lot about your suggestion, and decided to give it a try." She looked completely serious.

"Really?" I asked, trying to contain my excitement.

"I'm not sure what you're asking is right," she began. "But maybe there's more to it than what I'm seeing. Maybe we should try it out and see how we both feel."

My heart pounded. "So, you agree?"

"Yes," she said, "but on my own terms. We won't do it as a role-playing, it will be something that will help us both discover something new. It is not a game for me, if I see that I don't like it or that it's wrong, we'll stop right now. Do you agree?"

I nodded, feeling a wave of relief wash over me. "I totally agree. As always, I trust your judgment."

Anthea smiled again. "I will try it. Not because you ask, but because I want to know if there is anything for me in it. If I see that this is not for me, then we will stop it here" And she added with a confident and playful tone. "We'll see where this journey takes us..."

I knew nothing was certain, but it was a start. A start to something that neither she nor I could have imagined how it would turn out. It was Anthea's challenge, and I was ready to accept it, no matter what it entailed.

The beginning of our new relationship was full of uncertainty and excitement. Anthea had accepted my proposal to become her submissive, but in her own way, setting strict conditions and rules. For the first week, we only met once, it was a mixture of awkwardness, teasing and silent thoughts as we both tried to find our footing in this new dynamic.

From the first moment, Anthi made sure to make her intentions clear to me. "That doesn't mean I'm going to give you orders and supress you just to do it, I'm not a 'bitch' or a sadist to cause you pain," she had told me one day, while we were sitting in my living room. "It will be something that serves both of us and allows us to explore ourselves."

She made me understand that this relationship would be based on mutual understanding and respect. She set strict limits on how we would communicate. "You will never speak disrespectfully to me," she said. "You will call me 'Lady' and show humility and honesty at all levels. You will keep a daily journal of your activities, your thoughts and feelings, the worries and difficulties you feel as my submissive and send it to my email at 10pm sharp."

This was a challenge for me because I was not used to expressing such feelings so openly. However, my commitment was clear. I wanted to show Anthea how much I appreciated her and respected the opportunity she was giving me to prove my devotion.

We lived in different parts of the big city. Anthea lives with her mother in a spacious 3 bedroom apartment. My house was smaller, 2 bedrooms, living room, bathroom and a big terrace.

The first terms involved simple, daily changes. I started to clean and tidy my house, to be in a tolerable condition for whenever Anthea visited me which in the first weeks was not very often, days passed before we met. We talked for a while on the phone every day, just exchanging the news of our day, nothing special. Then she announced to me that we will not communicate for a few days without explaining the reason. I hung up the phone looking hopelessly into space, obviously she had changed her mind, she was not satisfied with this relationship. Melancholy seized me and I was restless every morning and throughout the day. It was a week of torture for me, with doubts and dark thoughts when I saw her number flashing on my phone. I grabbed the phone in a hurry and anxiety.

"Tonight, we will have a little ceremony at your place," she said in a tone that mixed irony with seriousness. "I'll prepare you for our new dynamic."

When she came in the evening, she invited me to kneel before her in the living room. She held in her hands a thin, shiny, distinctive iron collar, like a necklace.

"This," she said, "will be the symbol of our new relationship."

I look at her with a mixture of joy and respect. "Thank you, Lady...I'm ready to accept it." I bowed my head and let her slip the collar around my neck and she locked it, enjoying the feeling. "This collar," she explained with an air of sternness, "will remind you of who you are now and who serves whom."

With respect and sincere gratitude I started kissing her legs, the top, toes, soles and her ankles with passionate kisses.

"Thank you very much Lady. Thank you for giving me this gift, this honor..."

Anthea stopped me and told me to get up, I stood at attention in front of her. Then she pulled out a kitchen apron from her bag. It was a simple white apron with lace around the edges. She lift her up. "And this," she said, smiling broadly, "will be your apron. Every good housewife needs her own apron, doesn't she? From now on, you'll wear it every time you do housework. It's a sign of the dynamics of our new relationship."

I raised my eyebrows, surprised, but also somewhat amused by the idea. I was afraid she might make fun of me, but at the same time I knew it was part of the process to show my devotion.

"Oh, of course! I can't imagine myself without her." I say playfully.

I put on the apron, and Anthea looked at me amused. "Now you're showing the right spirit," she said with a sly smile. "From now on, this will be the symbol of your devotion and service to me." Her eyes sparkled and she smiled "I admit it suits you well, maybe you really were born to be my housekeeper after all ha-ha."

I bowed with a smile. "I am at your disposal, my good Lady."

She looked at me playfully. "I want you so! But don't forget, the apron is not just a look, it's a lifestyle."

I looked at her seriously. "Lady I promise to always wear it and honor my role as a housewife!"

She returned my gaze with a serious face. "I expect nothing less from you." Her expression changed to a mocking tone. "It really suits you boy. "I'm thinking of getting you a kitchen hat too...it'll go perfectly with your apron!"

I laughed... "Oh yeah! And maybe holding a wooden spoon to complete the whole thing."

She giggled. "Exactly! Or maybe a feather duster!"

I looked at her seriously. "I'm up for anything as long as I make you laugh."

"A noble cause... Remember, your collar is not just a symbol, it's a commitment. Are you ready to honor it?'

I replied firmly, "Yes, I'm ready. I am yours." She came closer and stroked my cheek, whispering, "I'm yours too, in my own way."

As the days passed we both felt more comfortable with the dynamics of our relationship. We met two or rarely three days a week, always at my house. My training was not limited to housework. Anthea decided to train me physically and mentally. To keep myself in shape she gave me particular workouts to do. She once told, "I don't want a weak slave" when she was watching me perform push-ups. "I want you to be strong, resilient, and endure anything I ask of you."

But it wasn't just fitness that interested her. My mental training was just as important. "You must learn to control your emotions," she said one day as we sat together. "You must learn to be completely focused on me and my needs."

She asked me to read books on empathy and psychology to better understand her desires and anticipate her needs. "I don't want to have to tell you what to do," she said. "I want you to figure it out for yourself."

It was obvious she enjoyed the control she had over me, but she did it at her own pace and by her own rules.

The beginning of the new relationship with Anthea was an experience full of challenges, changes and new discoveries. But it was only the beginning. I knew there was much more to come as we both learned to live and love in this new, exhilarating balance of power. Every day, her power over me grew stronger, and the rules she set were strict but, at the same time, complex and creative. Although at first it was difficult for me to adjust, little by little I began to feel satisfaction through complete surrender to her control.