Disclaimer:
What I write is fiction/fantasy/fairy tales for adults. None of my characters are real, no one was injured during the production of my stories and just like on T.V., they all get up when the scene is over, have a beer, remove the makeup and go home, ready to return in the next chapter, all the boo boos healed.
Votes and comments are as always gratefully received. E-mail will get a personnel response if you remember to leave me a return e-mail address.
Enjoy.
Dom Woolf
*
Part IV A year of Slavery
Chapter 5 Donna and Ruth
Slavery as seen from Donna and Ruth's perspective.
Donna
I started this diary to deal with some of the issues I am having since I became a slave. My Master and husband is allowing me to write this but He demands that I leave it on the desk where He can read it at anytime. I have no secrets from Him so that's the way it will be.
I was born almost forty years ago in a family that I have since learned was as fucked up as any family could be. My Father, how do I explain my father? He was a bastard and a pedophile and a sadist. He was a scholar and a gambler. A loving disciplinarian, an avid reader and a skilled torturer and trainer was my father. He was incestuous to a degree that even I didn't believe until my Master showed me the proof after a long and expensive search was done by a detective agency He hired to find out about my past.
My Father was my mother's older brother. He kidnapped my mother, his sister when he returned from college and may have murdered their parents, my grandparents to inherit their wealth and take his sister as his wife and play toy. However it happened, at twenty five he inherited enough wealth to never need work for the rest of his life.
He and his ten year old sister dropped off the radar at that point. The next time he resurfaced was six years later supposedly married to a pretty young wife and father of a two year old baby girl. Me.
My mother disappeared when I was eight and I took over her sexual duties. Of course my father didn't call it that but it amounted to the same thing. I had my daughter by him, his third generation when I was fourteen and when he began his games with my daughter I murdered him.
Sex was all I knew so I used that to provide for my daughter and myself until I ran into an old billionaire who caught me and my scheming ways in his net and used it to get exactly what he wanted. I thought I had the last laugh when I murdered him and inherited all his money but fate had other ideas. Detective Rick Taylor figured out what I had done and blackmailed me into becoming his wife and slave for life.
That is when I discovered I liked being a slave. I wasn't any good at running my own life and heaven knows I screwed up my daughters life but being a slave, having someone else run things and decide for me and tell me what to do and when to do it, frees me in a way I was never able to accomplish on my own.
Do I like being at my Masters beck and call, not having any choice in what I wear or mostly don't wear? Do I enjoy being ordered to satisfy Him or anyone he chooses in any way that He demand? Would I choose to endure the pain He and others inflict upon me, the whippings and torture, the body modifications He has had done to me? Can I really say I like the humiliation and degradation I am forced to endure at any time any place with no say so of my own?
Yes.
It is not what I would have or indeed did strive for before being caught, but now after seven years as property, not a person but a thing owned and used and belonging to Him, I can't imagine being any happier than I am now.
Soon I will be forty years old. If you could see me, naked and oiled, my hair down to my ass, my tits high and firm with their nipple rings and bars, my nipples extended to an unnatural degree. If you could see my hourglass figure, my oh so thin and flat waist and stomach, my rounded ass and tight legs and arms. If you could see me as I am forced to see myself in every mirrored surface in this house; you would think I was turning thirty instead of forty, that I was born with a perfect figure instead of the daily workouts and diet and sexercise that I work my ass off at everyday to maintain His property the way he wants it.
Yes, I call it sexercise because there is always a sexual component to my exercise routines. Some quite simple like squats, mine are done over a dildo, up, down, up, down on and off the hard rubber cock. Running on the track machine with my tits clamped to a tens unit, sending little shocks through my nipples or suddenly pulling them stretching the breasts while delivering those stimulating electrical goads. Slowing down or falling is not an option unless I really want pain.
Lifting weights while sucking on a dildo shoved down my throat or up my ass trying to throw off my concentration. Even doing simple yoga has a sexual component when you do it naked and exposed to guards and maids and who ever happens to wander by, never knowing when my Master will decide to use me or let me be used just because my naked and sweating form has attracted someone's attention.
I can see the results every time He takes me out to a club or shopping. I see it in the eyes of every man or boy that watches my every move, my every bounce and jiggle, sway and sashay until I am out of their sight or their wife or girlfriend slaps the hell out of them for staring.
I see it in the hard stares of other women. The jealousy, the envy, Oh if only they knew what they could have if they turned their lives over to a man like my Master. How they would lose the bitchiness that most women seem to cultivate. They would lose the excuses and the defiance, the societal haughtiness that modern women have, for a man, like my Master would soon break them of their distain.
Pain is a wonderful teacher. Schools used to know this before becoming the politically correct institutes of learning that teach nothing. A rap of the knuckles with a ruler or a paddle across the rear concentrates the mind and forces us to remember the lessons taught because that is how humans are hardwired from millions of years to evolution.
Pain is and was the great teacher and to avoid pain we learned to do or not to do all the things that helped humans survive.
Pain would teach these women to keep their bodies in the shape they could be in if they had not been taught to be so lazy, so comfortable. Humility and obedience are hard lessons to learn, especially if you were used to taking the easy way out of most situations as I used to be. A hard taskmaster such as mine does not allow this. He punishes until one learns that there is only one way to do anything that is demanded, his way.
Do I regret my choices? No. If I had done anything different my daughter and I would not be where we are today and I doubt we would be as happy as we are now.
My daughter; My daughter who is my half sister and my first cousin thanks to my bastard of a father who is also her father. My daughter, who I used as bait for pedophiles and as blackmail material in my get rich quick schemes. Whom I used to seduce my rich first husband. Who helped me murder him to get his money and who is now my Mistress, a dominatrix in her own right and the lover of my Master and husband.
Is my life fucked up? Some would say so. I on the other hand am perfectly content. I share my slave duties with Ruth, my slave sister and best friend. Ruth, whose life was as fucked up as mine. Her husband was an incestuous pedophile interested in fucking his own daughters more than her.
It's funny because now her daughters are slaves also and in the same incestuous relationship as my daughter and me, but the difference is choice. They choose to become slaves. Choose to be what we are and once having chosen, lost the ability to make any further decisions.
Life takes weird turns sometimes.
Ruth has lost weight and firmed up her muscles on the same sexercise and diet as me. She looks years younger than when she first joined our family. She tells me she never felt better, looked as good, or was as happy as she is now. She only contracted for a year but I bet she decides to stay with us as long as our Master wishes.
Ruth is four years older than I am but it's getting harder to tell, she is almost as firm in the chest as I am and her tummy is almost gone. Master likes the washboard abs and hard thighs and we workout every day trying to please him.
