I had just moved to town, and was in the market for a new house pet/slave girl. I suppose that I could have checked the personal ads, but I have found that women who volunteer to be owned sometimes feel that they have to instruct the master in how they should be owned. No, thank you! I prefer naturally submissive women who are given no choice but to accept my ownership. And how do I go about finding such treasures? It is as easy as placing a help wanted add.
Wanted House Maid
For elderly bachelor – duties include, laundry, house cleaning,
running errands, and some light cooking. Tel: 555-5555.[/b]
There were over thirty responses and of the thirty, seven I judged to be submissive enough to be taken under the right circumstances. But one was a real beauty. Single mother, unemployed, desperate for work, she was ready to be taken. When I explained to her that she would need to wear a maid’s uniform, she had no problem with it. I watched her legs tighten a bit as she answered.
“This cunt is already wet,” I thought. “Stand up and turn around for me.” She looked surprised but obeyed without question. This one was really ripe for the picking. “I am an old man, and if I am going to employ a young lady to work for me, I want to enjoy watching her to it. Does that seem unreasonable to you?”
“No, sir,” she stammered. “I hope to be pleasing.”
She was the only one that I called back. In fact, when I called her, I offered her the job. When I told her that she would be clearing $600 a week after taxes, she was almost gushing over the phone. I gave her the address of the uniform company where I had opened an account. First thing in the morning she was to pick up her uniform and come here to change into it. By 9:30 in the morning, I expected her to present herself for inspection. We both agreed to a six week “try-out” time where either party was free to terminate the relationship at will.
t was 9:15 when I let her in and showed her a room that she could change into her work clothes and store her personal belongings. Well, it was more of a walk-in closet than a room, but it was good enough for her.
Her uniform was a modest one piece maid’s uniform that you might see in an upscale hotel. I could tell that she was expecting something sexier, but, at this stage, I want her off balance and a bit disappointed. I would not move her from this level for a month.
One month later
Sarah, the cunt’s name turned out to be Sarah, had settled in nicely in her new position. I could tell from her demeanor that she was getting comfortable having a paycheck. She saw the future before her as one smooth road that she would coast along on. I decided that it was time to change things for her. I called her to me and sat in my easy chair while she stood in front of me.
“Sarah, I was looking for my blue and red shirt this morning, and I could not find it. I went down to the laundry room and there it was in the drier.”
Sarah brought both hands to her face. “Oh, I am so sorry, Sir. I don’t know how it happened, Sir. It will never happen again, I promise.”
“I’m sorry, Sarah, it is just not working out. I have to let you go.”
Sarah saw her whole future dissolve in front of her eyes. Then, I think, she remembered that she had put the shirt in the right drawer last night. She was a smart girl, she knew what was coming, and she knew that she was going to acquiesce to it.
“Please sir,” she said, “Please allow me to serve you.” As she said this, she removed her uniform, bra, and panties. She placed her hands behind her head and waited.
I let her wait. The human body is not happy being still. It is almost always in a constant adjustment. But when a girl is left standing with her legs spread apart and her chest arched outward because of the way the shoulders are thrown back when the hands a placed behind the head, she starts to feel awkward real fast. She was also aware that my sight was directed to her pussy which was soaking wet. She was aware of herself being controlled by the will of another.
“All right, let’s be clear what we are agreeing to, shall we,” I asked. “For the sum of $600 dollars a week, you will continue to be my maid, but you are also willing to become my sex slave, which I may use in any way that I choose. Is that about it?”
“Yes, sir,” Sarah replied.
“What does that make you?”
“What does that make you, Cunt,” I asked. “For six hundred bucks a week I get to fuck you. So once again, what does that make you?”
Sarah was I noticed near to have some type of orgasm. She hadn’t touched herself, but her eyes were dilated, and her clit was playing peek-a-boo through her hood.
“I’m your whore, Sir” she was coming. I had never seen anything like it. I released myself and just stroked gently while she started to reach for herself. I did not stop her. Soon she was rubbing her clit and finger fucking herself as though her life depended on it. She arched her neck back and gave forth a sound that was part scream, part groan, and all release. She was finished.
I told her to kneel of the floor before she fell down. She then noticed, for the first time, my cock more or less just standing there. She started to reach for it, but I told her to keep her position.
“That was very nice, but you are never to do it again,” I said to her surprised face. “This cunt is mine, and only I decided what happens to it. You are never to come again without my permission. Well, whore, any questions?”
“Tomorrow, return your uniform. From now on when you are here you will be naked.”
“Whenever I touch you, you will lock your hands behind your back.”
“Your first job every morning will be to blow me. If I am asleep, that is how you will wake me. If I am awake, you will blow me. Every morning you will start your work day by blowing me.”
“I’m going to hurt you. You understand that, right?”
“What are you?”
“I’m your whore, Sir.”
I dropped my pants and made her sit on me with her back facing me. After giving her asshole a bit of lube job, I entered in to her to the sound of her cry. It was music to my ears. I started to play with her cunt as I reached inside of her feeling for that certain spot and with my other hand I started to rub her clit. I was really pressing down on her clit. I told her to use her hands to pull her nipples. She obeyed. Soon she was begging to be allowed to come. I held off and then agreed as I wrapped myself around and in her. We were both panting as we parted. She got up, went to a bathroom and returned with water and wash cloths. She cleaned me, as would a servant would her master.
I’m telling you, this girl was a natural. Sure, she was going to take the money. She needed it. But her need for an owner went so much deeper. Already I was beginning to see signs in her eyes that she was falling in love with me. They just can’t help it. It’s their nature to love their owners with pure devotion. But I am an owner, and owners have their nature as well. As natural as it is for a slave to love her master, it is equally natural for an owner to fall in love with his slave. It is this ability to love that sets a true owner apart from a sadistic psychopath. One loves his treasured possession and the other only wishes to see it destroyed. She didn’t know it, but I started to fall in love with her during the first interview.
The thing is that slaves like pets know that they are loved and treasured, and they try to use that knowledge to control, to some extent, their owner. While in a dog or a cat, this trait may seem cute, in a slave in can be near fatal. A good sex slave needs a constant firm hand. They must be trained like a thoroughbred. A horse that is firmly guided with love and understanding will jump over a hedge without being able to see what is on the other side. But if the horse has on occasion gotten the upper hand with its rider, it will not trust its rider enough to make the jump.
And then there is, of course, the pure glory of controlling something as beautiful as a sex slave. Even the idea of owning another person makes a true owner’s blood boil. Ownership is so far beyond consensual, that they barely exist in the same world. I loved her. She will come to love me. She will jump the hedge for me.
She is at my feet. “Suck on me,” I commanded. At once she pounced on my cock like I had just given her permission to gobble up a scoop of her favorite ice cream. I grabbed her head and made her look me in the face with my cock in her mouth. “I own you, you fucking little bitch. Not one part of your body is yours; it is all mine.” She reacted like I had just given her the keys to candy store. She bent down to better administer to my prick’s needs, and I swear, that I heard her purr. With a cock in her mouth she was as happy as a kitten.
The next morning I was dreaming that I was fucking her; then I slowly began to leave the dream to discover that she was sucking my cock slowly and lovingly. Men have killed to feel what I was feeling as I came into her mouth and watch her swallow it like it was nectar. It was at that moment that I showed her a weakness. I pulled her to me and kissed her deeply. I really loved this woman. I was amazed when she responded with a passion of her own that matched mine.
“You are my true lord and master. I have waited for you my entire life.”
I went dark. “What you were waiting your entire life for was some guy to buy your ass for $600 a week?”
Blowing my mind, she didn’t miss a step, “Yes, master, your whore has waited her entire life for you.”
“At once, Sir.”
She was good. She served more food than I would eat and then knelt at my side. From time to time I would place a morsel of food into her mouth, which she would accept and swallow down. From that time on, as long as she was in the house, that was how she was fed. I am not a great fan of water bowls for slaves, so I would allow her to drink from my cup. Also after I have left the kitchen and she is cleaning up, she is allowed to have a coffee and cigarette break. I am not a heartless person. She gets three breaks a day, and more when she spends the night.
The rest of the morning is spent during light housework. Whenever I touch her she stops what she is doing and places her hands behind her back.
I have hurt her as well. It’s part of who I am. I like to bring a whip down on a helpless female. And it just so happens that I happen to own a female that I can whip to my heart’s content.
Life is good.
One Year Later
Yesterday marked our first anniversary. For the last 365 days I have awoke each morning to a loving blow job from my sex slave Sarah. Also over the last year our love and passion for each other had grown to an all consuming flame.
There are two schools of owners. The first school treats a slave like a recruit in an army boot camp. The slave is constantly broken down. The idea appears to be to wipe the slave’s personality clean and replace it with desperation to obey and please. Their slaves live a life of subservience and fear.
I am in the second school. While we do share a lot with the first school, my kind of owner models his style somewhat after pet owners who train their pets to perform. I enjoy seeing Sarah happy, much in the way that a cat owner likes to see his kitty happy and playful. While the first school does not really allow much in the way of slave happiness, the second school gets off on it. One cat lady told me that there was no reason to own them if you can’t spoil them. I like Sarah to be happy, but she knows that there are lines that she cannot cross. When I take her out in public, she is treated almost as if she were an equal, with just the occasional reminder necessary to bring her back in line. She is, after all, owned. When she is happy, it is because I allow it. And when I wish to hear her cry out in agony, she will cry for me. This is her life with me now. I don’t know what she thinks about when I send her back to her family. I never ask. But this I will say, out of the past 365 morning blow jobs, there was not one that was done mechanically. She is quite simply, “the best little girl-slave in the whole wide world.” There is something very deep inside of her that responds to that. It is another thing that I love about her.
This morning, for the first time, I stopped her and open my arms to her and she buried her head in my neck. I rolled her on her back and entered her. She was gushing wetness. I slid in like I was returning home. And home seemed very happy with my return. It was bouncing up and down like it was trying to greet me like a puppy does when its master has been away. It took a minute to match her rhythm. I leaned over her, and told her that I loved her. She now had wrapped herself, arms, and legs around me. “I love you, Master,” she cried back at me. “May I come?”
“No,” I answered, wait. Come with me.” Then I took her head in my hands and looked deep into her eyes as I came inside of her. She came with me, never averting her glance. She came again still locked into my eyes, and then dropped her legs back to the bed. I was still holding her and kissing her.
“I love you, Master,” she said again in a contented tone that any man would be proud to hear.
“I love you too,” I replied, “Happy Anniversary.”
“You remembered,” she cried in delighted disbelief.
“At once master, may I clean you first?”
“You are a good girl.” I guided her head to my groin and watched her clean me with her mouth and tongue. She had no idea that today, her slavery was going to be taken a step further than she had foreseen.
I enjoy feeding her. Sometimes I will offer her a bit on a fork, and other times I use my fingers. When I use my fingers, she is careful to lick them clean after each bite. She truly was a natural, an owner’s dream.
After I had finished eating, I returned to my bedroom and dressed. Since I had no place that I needed to be today, I just put on a pair of sweat pants, shirt, and a light sweater. The house is always kept warm because of Sarah lack of clothing.
As I was about to enter the den, the security system said that a car had pulled into my driveway. I switched on a monitor and saw a couple approaching the front door. I went to answer it. At the doorway were a man and women. The man was holding a copy of the “Watchtower” magazine. They were Jehovah Witnesses or JW’s for short.
“Good morning, brother, we have come to tell you some really good news about the bible.”
“No shit,” I responded, “I guess you better come in then.”
They both came into the living room and sat down. The man made a motion to my chair, but I directed him to sit beside his lady companion. The guy was a clear dork, but the woman kept lowering her eyes whenever I looked at them.
“So I understand that God says that I can beat my slave as hard as I want as long as she is able to walk in two days. Is that right?”
“Well yes, the Old Testament does say things like that, but we have changed since then,”
“Has God changed?”
“God is unchanging.”
“That is what I thought, so if God says that it is OK to beat my slave, it’s OK?”
“But no one has slaves anymore.”
“I do.” His eyes popped open. He didn’t believe that he had heard what he had heard. The young lady was clearly aroused. Interesting. I picked up my bell and gave it a tinkle. The bell can be heard throughout the house, and Sarah has 30 seconds to appear before me or she gets ten lashes. Since she was in the kitchen, which is the next room, there was no reason for her to hesitate, but she had only five seconds to spare has she came into the living room and assumed her standing position. “This is my slave, Sarah. We are not married. She is not my girlfriend. She is simply something that I own.” The female JW’s mouth was open. The dork didn’t know what to do, but the tent that he was pitching in his pants seemed to indicate that his mind was not on Jehovah. Meanwhile tears were falling down Sarah’s face. Her whole body was turning red with embarrassment. I turned Sarah around so that they could see the whip marks on her body.
“As you can see she is able to walk, so I am assuming that Jehovah approved and enjoyed the ass whipping I gave her as much as I did.”
The man grabbed his companion by the hand and ran for the door. When they were half way to their car, I called out, “Miss, I think you left your cell phone here.”
She looked in her purse, said something to the man and ran back into the house. As soon as she was in the door I grabbed her and lifted her skirt, I could feel that her wetness had soaked her panties. I gave her my card. “Call me,” I said. She nodded to both of us and walked back to her companion. Of course, there was no cell phone, and she knew that when she decided to lie to her companion and return to me. Maybe something will come of it, who knows.
I told Sarah to stay in position; I had something to say to her.
“Sarah, it has been a year that you have been my slave. And, I must say, that you have been as good a slave as I have ever owned. But I just don’t feel right about the way that I took you. I sort of forced you into being owned. So, as of now, I am setting you free. I have your maid’s uniform upstairs; you can change into it right now and continue to work here.”
Sarah was a smart girl, she knew what was happening and she was surprised to find that she welcomed it. She fell to her knees and pulled my pants down and kissed my penis.
“I am begging to be owned by you, Master.” What was amazing to both of us was the sincerity of her words. They were coming from a place so deep in Sarah that she was not aware of its existence until it spoke through her.
I had planned on playing with her for awhile, making her beg, and plea to be taken. But we were both shaken by what was happening. My acceptance of her came from just as deep. She took me in her mouth and just held me there. I am a simple man who likes simple things. Give me a beautiful woman with my cock in her mouth, and I am a pretty happy guy. I was just about to be a very happy guy when the phone rang. Since Sarah had me in her mouth, I answered the phone. It was the female JW, whose name turned out to be Debbi. Debbi had called to tell me that Joe, the JW dork, had gone to the police and said that I was holding a woman against her will in sexual slavery. I thanked Debbie, and I told her that I have noted her number on my called ID, and would be getting back to her. I could hear sirens from far away getting closer. I told Sarah what was going on and sent her upstairs to change into the maid’s uniform, and to wait there until I rang for her. She was a smart girl. I saw no need to tell her what to tell the cops. I could trust her intelligence.
I met the police at the door. “We were told that you are holding someone here against their will.”
“Really officer, me? Holding someone against their will? Really? Are you sure you got the right address?”
“May we come in?”
‘I haven’t decided yet. I assume that you have no warrant?” The silent cop was trying to look through my windows, but I have all my downstairs windows coated with a security film that lets light in, but not out. With the games that I play in the house, I did not want to have to endure an infestation of peeping toms.
“Look, the guy that owns the next house down is holding someone against their will there. Now are you going to go there as well with sirens blaring? Oh, very well come in.”
I escorted them to my den where they stood as I sat at my desk. “Well?”
“Do you live here alone Sir.”
“Big house for one person; I assume that you have help.”
“Yes, I have a maid. She is upstairs at the moment.”
“May we see her?”
“I don’t see why not,” I said as I pushed a buzzer.
Sarah appeared in her maid’s outfit with rubber gloves on. She looked as though she had been cleaning a bathroom.
“You buzzed, Sir,” She said as she came into the room.
“Tell these policemen your name and social security number.” Sarah obeyed. I turned my computer so that the police could see the spreadsheet. “This is from my payroll service, as you can see, she has been paid weekly, and all of her withholding money has been deposited with both the state of federal governments. Sarah is legally employed by me. She has her own address, where she lives with her mother, brother, and children. She is not kept here against her will, and does not sleep in a cage in some dark dungeon under the house.
“Sir, what is going on,” Sarah asked. I explained that the police were concerned for her safety. “As they can see, I am safe. Can I go back to work now?”
“Would you mind stepping outside for a minute, Miss,” one policeman asked. Sarah agreed and stepped outside where she was free from my influence, and told them that she was simply my maid, and if there was something between that old man and young healthy her, it would be him they should be worrying about. They apologized and left.
“It’s your own fault, you know. If you hadn’t had to be such a show off . . ., oh, never mind,” she said has she stomped up stairs.
When she was nude again and came down for lunch, she asked, “What are you going to do with Debbi?”
I passed her a piece of paper with Debbi’s number on it. “It’s you she wants. She just saw me as the price that she needed to pay to get to you. So you do with her whatever you want.” She took the paper and took it to her closet. I had bought matching robes for the two of us, which I used this occasion to give to her. “I don’t want either of us catching a chill,” I said, “and I want you to wear this when we go out tonight. I passed her three boxes, the larger was a cocktail dress (basic black), followed by shoes, and finally an amethyst necklace.
That night as we dined together at one of the better eateries in town, we sat in a curved booth so that she could sit beside me rather than across from me. We ordered drinks, and when they were served, we toasted our new year and new relationship. I handed her a small egg shaped device, “Put this inside you and see that it doesn’t fall out all night.”
She looked down at the table and modestly said, “Yes, Sir,” and picked up the egg. I did enjoy watching her insert the toy while trying to look from the table level up that she was simply enjoying her drink. When she brought her hands to the top of the table, I hit the switch on the remote control in my pocket. Her jaw dropped and her eyes bugged. I watched her get flush, and then turned off the vibrator. Sarah was looking at me, panting through her mouth. She had a wildness about her that was most agreeable. I let her eat her meal mostly in peace. I did throw the switch a few times; just on and off, to get her attention. It never ceases to amaze me how sexual excitement adds to a woman’s beauty. With my left hand I felt her pussy. The poor girl was gushing. Her new dress was going to need a trip to the laundry tomorrow.
“You really have no shame at all, do you,” I asked after desert as I raised a cup of coffee to my lips.
“I don’t understand, Sir,” she said, and gasped as I turned the vibrator on. She started to reach for herself, but I stopped her.
“Leave your hands on the table, Bitch,” I said in my best cruel voice. “You were going to reach for your cunt weren’t you, you dirty little whore? At least try to act like a lady.” All the time that I was talking the vibrator was doing its work. Soon her face took on a pleading look.
“Please Sir.” Her body showed signs of rocking. She was holding the table. There are simply no words to describe how beautiful she was. The candle light illuminated her face. She was biting her lips from the inside.
“Please sir what? I asked.
“May I come sir”
“Of course not, we can’t have you bucking and screaming all over. This is a place where decent people come to eat. Please try to behave yourself.”
“I’ll be quiet, I promise Master, please.”
he look on her face when I consented was priceless. She kind of stretched out on the cushion while I spotted a waitress and motioned her over. Sarah did her best, and I did turn off her little toy, but the waitress never shifted her gaze from Sarah’s face. Sarah looked back with a look of triumph mixed with humiliation. I gave the waitress my credit card, and asked Sarah if she were free to spend the night. As long as she could leave early, she answered.. She fell asleep with my cock in her mouth. I did some rearranging of the blankets and let her sleep.