If anyone knew of my wife for what she was and the life she was living, they might be confused at the least. Perhaps they would have rejected her, and us in general. For her life, at the tender age of 24, was at my mercy.
For she, Annie Wilson to the outside world, was an unperson at home.
At any time, she was what I fancied her to be. Not Annie; she was not that at home. She was not a submissive, but a slave.
A slave does not have a name if not given one. A slave is a bitch, a cunt, a slut, a fucktoy or whatever the owner wanted her to be.
I had decided against giving my slave a name.
***
I met her two years ago. She had gone through a shattering relationship. Her confidence in men had evaporated. She was the receptionist at my place of work. She was a pretty creature with curly brownish hair, full lips and large brown eyes.
We became friends and she gradually opened herself to me.
One day I said, you need a strong person to keep you in track. Your mind is wayward. You must give it a bit of rest and let someone handle it for you.
We were discussing this while we were in my home. On my bed. We had already started sleeping together. It was the summer and Annie was naked. Of course, she rarely wore anything at home even then.
Actually she was naked then than now. At that time, her body was devoid of any marks. When naked, she was pure; like the day she was born. After all that happened, her nude body was not the same anymore.
But that came later.
Those days, we discussed our life. Her life, to be precise. I said I will be her permanent partner. I will not leave her, I said. Throughout her troubled times, I was there. It was genuine affection and love. She needed a dominant. To keep her on track.
I felt that she was willing to go even beyond. I gave her time for her to think over the whole situation. Annie knew that she would become someone totally different.
Annie was my responsibility. But she was to become more than that. She was to become my slave.
***
One beautiful night, Annie sat on her chair at our place for one last time. Naked, she read through her terms of servitude. She was naked only because it was a usual dress code at home. The conditions were brief. She was to obey all the rules I impose. My express permission was required for her to do anything except breathing. She could always move out, with no chance of returning.
She became my slave.
I ordered her on hands and knees on the carpet, leaning forward with her ass up in the air. Legs spread wide, she was unashamedly exposed.
"That is a nice asshole, whore" I said.
She was silent. I spanked her.
She was still silent. I spanked her again, harder, on the other butt cheek.
She was still silent.
"You do not have manners, do you?" I asked.
"Sir?"
"I said you have a nice asshole. It's a compliment. But did you acknowledge it by thanking me?"
"I am sorry Sir," she said.
"Then I punished you. Twice. Did you realize?"