I am not my Master’s only slave. I may kneel on the floor by my Master or hang from chains and watch while he plays with one of my sisters. Shelved. Put aside for the moment.
But never forgotten by Master.
He tortures her with dildos and plugs, maybe with clamps and ice. He makes her scream out in that schism of agony and pleasure. And he wants me to watch so I can imagine myself in her place… and I don’t have to imagine long because Master is soon doing the same to me.
We are his. And while he is our Master, we cannot put demands on him. Living as a submissive feels like marriage -- I love my Master completely. The collar on my neck is like a wedding band. I begged for it, begged to have a collar that shows to the world that I am owned. But I do not own my Master.
Master had been away and had no slaves when he found me. I was his only slave, and I thought how lucky I was to have such a wonderful Master to myself. I didn’t want to have to share him, I knew I would if he asked, but I felt special as his Only One.
I didn’t know what it was to be a slave, especially in this world where I have to go to work and pretend to be an executive. A slow building of anxiety started to creep into my soul after a week of nakedness, of new tasks, of learning what pleases my Master and feeling Master discover my kinks and use them to bind me to him.
Master is wonderful at taking me apart, making me see and admit to things I didn’t know were inside me. And he is wonderful at putting me back together. But he is my Master. There are things that a strong willed man can’t understand; even a compassionate, empathic man like Master.
By the end of the first week with Master I found myself frantically texting a friend of mine who I knew was a sub. I told her in my message that I needed to see her, that there are very few people I could talk to, maybe nobody other than her.
When we sat down at lunch and I explained that I had been collared, like her, it was like a world opened up and we could take off our disguises and really talk. I mean Really Talk. Talk about how it feels when Master yanks on your chain, talk about the confusion, talk about the emotional turmoil of being a slave and having to go to work with people who would never understand…
She told me about “sub crashing” or “sub drop” when after all those endorphins from being so on edge fall away leaving you empty and an emotional wreck. She told me to call or text any time because she knows how amazing it is to be owned, and how hard it is to deal with such an amazing gift.
She is owned by someone very different than my Master, but we are Sisters. Not just a friend who I’ve hung out with. Suddenly she is one of the most important people in my life. Someone who knows this person who I have to hide when I am out in the world. Someone who I trust, completely and love in a very different way than my Master.
I was so happy when Master brought more slaves to our household -- not competition for my Master’s attentions but Sisters who I can share with. I am not alone, even when Master is away. I have Sisters to talk to when I feel unsure, and I have Sisters to help please Master.
I know it looks like a male fantasy, a man with his harem. But, really, it is somehow my female fantasy come true. I have a Master who knows me better than I know myself, and I have a loving, supportive Sisterhood where I can be completely that person Master sees in me.
Connected. Loved. Owned.
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