This FICTION story is meant for entertainment only for those that can tell fiction from reality.
With a very content smile, I climb into my car after a 10-hour workday. I sit in the driver's seat for a long moment, reflecting on how tired I am. Today, like most days these days, was a hard and stressful day.
A few weeks ago, I was promoted to President of Special Projects. (Previously I was Acting Manager of Southern Areas within Special Projects). I was promoted because upper management had seen a huge change in my quality and speed of work in the past few weeks...ever since the convention.
Not a day passes that I don't think of that night and remember all the things that happened. It brings an even wider smile to my face as I start my car and head towards the freeway. The memory of that night always makes me smile, no matter how tired I am.
It changed me. A lot. I know I'm no longer the same woman. So many of the traits that I considered bad have washed away like dirt after a shower. I'm so much more calm, slow to anger and overall I'm so much more content. This is one of the reasons I was promoted as there was something of a crisis at work a few weeks ago, and I was the only one that stayed calm and was able to think clearly. Because of it, I single-handedly solved the issue.
I sometimes wish that everyday could be like that day at the convention. That I could relive it each and everyday in some sort of time loop. But I know if I did, it would lose what made it special. But I do savor the feelings that I discovered that day. Such feelings like what it felt like to be beautifully helpless. Or the humiliation of having an upset woman violate you in an intimate manner. Or the horror and pleasure of being gang-banged by a large group of men with very large manhoods.
And most of all, the part that sticks out the most when I think back is when I was presented to the couple that paid so much for me. It gave me the feeling of being owned. Of truly being a slave and having to do as your master wanted. It was such a wonderful and exciting feeling, not to mention scary. Till the day I die, I'll remember it as it was what was missing from my life, I just didn't know it at the time.
The smile on my face stays as I drive, not really caring too much about the others cutting me off or driving 50 over the speed limit. I know before I would be cursing them out or worse, but these days, I pity such people. Just like I pity people that go out of their way to say negative things about other's kinks and fetishes. Previous I did the same, but after what I've been through, I can truly see how some kinks are almost spiritual and as long as it isn't harmful to you, why does it matter what others do?
As I take the exit ramp, I do let out a sigh as I think of how the magic of that night at the convention will never be the same again. But like they say, something is beautiful because it does fade.
One thing I still can't believe is how I became something of a minor celebrity after the convention. Word of what I went through spread all over and had so many people reach out to me. From BDSM clubs around the country wanting me to visit and give speeches, to wanting me to endorse a CNC type service that was starting, to even multiple porn companies seeking to hire me as a performer.
If I had wanted, I could have made a lot of money off of it all, but as corny as it is, money doesn't hold the luster it once did for me. In fact, my new promotion has already given me more money than I could ever use so I give most of it to various charities. I have a lot saved up and I'm able to pay for my apartment which has more room than I could ever use. Like I said, ever since that day, I've changed. And yes, I realize the irony as the only reason I went to the convention that night was to try and get back my deposit because I cared about money so much.
I wish I could say that on the night that I was sold, that I spent all night with my new masters which wanted to be called Mister and Misses Valentine, even if that wasn't their real names. I would have loved to proclaim that we did all manner of sexual acts in which I died in an act of extreme ecstasy. What really happened was we had a long conversation that lasted about an hour. It was a very deep and intimate conversation, one like I've never had before...but that's all that happened. No sex. No punishment. Just us talking. Hell, they never even touched me once.
The conversation was very eye-opening as the couple that purchased me were my landlords. That blew my mind when I first saw them. I never had any idea that they were into such things as they are an older couple and seemed very plain and wholesome. I guess you could say they were like the typical grandparent roles in movies. Never did I think they would be into such kinky things.
They revealed that they always had an idea that I would be into submission, but that it would be rude to suggest such things to people you are not close to. They went on to tell me how they have been into this lifestyle for well over 40 years and had experienced so much. I listened very closely as they told me stories about things that had happened to them, about things they had tired, about techniques they picked up and so much more. Moreover, I learned that they are extremely well respected in the BDSM and Slave/Master worlds. So much so that they were one of the founders of the very convention.
After the conversation, I was given clothes to wear and drove myself back home. After all the sex and abuse of that night, I stayed in bed for close to 2 days to heal. I was in a lot of pain, but as weird as it will sound, it was good pain. Overall it took close to a month for all the bruises and welts to heal completely, not that I minded.
Several people from the convention called to check on me. What I thought showed a lot of class was that they also reached out to offer professional counselling as they knew what I experienced could be traumatic. They reached out every day for close to 2 weeks to check on me, making sure I was physically, mentally and emotionally ok. You would think this is because they didn't want to be sued, but the legal contract you signed when going to the convention clearly states you waive all rights to sue, so they checked on me out of real concern for my safety.
That really began to open my eyes to just how caring the community really was. For some reason I always pictured it as people trying to get their rocks off and once they did, they disappear, but that isn't the case. These are caring people out to help each other in every way.
Now...for a while I didn't think my breasts would ever go back to normal. This concerned me as I didn't want to have to purchase all new bras because of their swollen size. I considered them large before but after? Jeez. It felt like I was just as tall on my back as standing.
I finally reach my apartment complex. It's not the standard apartment complex you might think of in a big city. You know what I mean, the huge city based apartment complex where there are hundreds and hundreds of apartments on top of each other? These are nothing like that. These are older, small buildings that house 12 apartments in each building. Granted there's about 8 or so of these apartment buildings in this area, but it makes it a very nice place to live as you are not crowded on top of each other like sardines, which allows for more privacy. Sure, the rent is more at places like these, but I think it is worth it.
I park in my private parking space in front of my complex and get out of my car. There is a rather large courtyard between the parking lot and the apartments that is much like a park. It is a very serene locale and you can normally find a neighbor sitting out here enjoying the view.
As I walk on the brick path within the courtyard, I smile and wave at the 2 of my neighbors that happen to be out at the moment. One, whose name is Betty, is tending the small garden she has in front of her apartment in the courtyard. It's a small patch filled with flowers and tomato plants. As I walk to pass her, I tell her how she has a green thumb and she thanks me, saying how since she is retired she's gotten pretty good. She goes on to ask about my day and I tell her how it was pretty hectic but good. We have a pleasant conversation like this.
The other neighbor who is out at the moment is Mr. Johnson who is sitting in a chair while smoking a pipe much like a young college professor. When I wave at him, he waves back in a comical sort of manner. Then to be funny he tries to hide his pipe as we all have gotten onto him about how bad it is for him.
The only thing that I used to think was odd about my apartment complex is that there were no kids around. I mean, I used to think it was a law that you had to have at least one young family at every apartment complex ever. But here, no. Any children of the people that live here are all adults and live elsewhere. There's no young children anywhere around here.
Right before I walk away, Betty asks if I have any plans for tonight to which I say no. That it should be the same sort of relaxing evening as always. She then asks if I would like her to stop by tonight, to which I tell her that would be nice. That it's been a while since she has. After this, I tell her I will see her later then keep walking towards my apartment.
I reach my apartment and unlock the door. Again, you might think that after the convention I went crazy with jumping into the new world of being a slave. That I would have completely redesigned my life to the point that there would be nothing but whips, chains and clamps here, but no. It's my same apartment, decorated the same as it always has been. There's no evidence of any sexual or lifestyle changes at all. To be honest, the one sexual aid I did have, which was a vibrator, I got rid of, so there's nothing like that at all in my apartment. It might sound weird, but I no longer needed it.
Feeling happy and content, I pour myself a single glass of wine, which I do after every day after work. Before the convention, some nights I would drink an entire bottle of wine in an effort to get relaxed. Now I can't even think of a night when I had more than a single glass. Even then, I often don't even drink it all.