A Slave's Story by Laura Lynn Davis, M/F, F/F For as long as I can remember I've wanted to be a slave, to have someone else control me and use me as they wish. I don't know why because I wasn't abused as a child, not sexually, physically, or mentally. In fact, I was an over achiever. My parents encouraged me as much as they encouraged my brothers. I was the youngest of three children and the only girl. We were always told we could be anything, do anything, and all it took was an education and commitment. At seventeen I was tall, athletic, blonde, and beautiful. I ranked in the top ten in my class, was the female athlete of the year, and was dating a guy I'd known since kindergarten. Everyone said we were the ideal couple and assumed we'd get married after college. They also assumed that we were sleeping together but they were wrong. Cullen was gay, something I'd known since sixth grade. But we had fun on our dates and I didn't have to worry about
being pressured for sex. I was sixteen when I told Cullen about my desire to be a slave. We talked about it a lot, analyzing it, trying to find a reason. But we didn't. I'd read some historical novels, bodice rippers where the heroine it captured by pirates, sold into slavery, and abused before being rescued by a handsome man who whisked her off to a life of leisure and unimaginable ecstasy. It all sounded good to me. At least up until the part where she's rescued. I didn't want to be rescued. I wanted to spend my life as a slave. Once in a while I'd give Cullen a blowjob and once in a while he'd masturbate me or go down on me. It was fun and it relieved the tension but it wasn 't the real thing for either of us. Once, shortly after my seventeenth birthday I talked Cullen into spanking me with his belt. We were hiking in the woods up past the reservoir. I was wearing shorts, a tank top, and hiking boots. I asked him to spank me and he refused. I wheedled and whined and he finally agreed. I stood under a convenient tree limb and he used my belt to secure my wrists to the limb. Then he eased my shorts and panties down. I wanted twenty-five hard strokes. "Or until I'm crying and begging you to stop. Which ever comes first." "Ten. And not that hard." "Twenty. Very hard." We went back and forth for a while. I held out for twenty. Finally, I said, "Do twenty as hard as you can and then you can fuck me in my ass." He cut my panties off with a knife and used them to gag me, pushing them into my mouth and then tying them in place with one of my bootlaces. I gasped in shock when he brought the belt down across my ass. It hurt worse than I 'd ever imagined! He took his time, making sure that he spread the strokes over my entire ass. I was crying after four, sobbing after six, screaming after eight, begging him to stop. But the gag muffled my screams and he paid no attention. I took the full twenty. I didn't stop crying for a good twenty minutes. By then we were almost back at the car. That night he picked me up at 7:00 to go to the movies. But we didn't go to the movies. His parents were away for the weekend and we went to his house. I took my clothes off and stretched out on his bed, on my belly, and put my head on my crossed arms. He slipped a pillow under my hips and then he spread my buttocks with one hand while he lubricated my anus with Vaseline. "Your ass is still red. The welts will last for days. Better not let you mom see your butt." I whimpered as he eased his finger into my anus to spread the Vaseline around. I glanced over my shoulder as he straddled me. His cock was beautiful - a good 7" long and fairly thick. He was circumcised and the head of his cock was purple, like a plum. I moaned. "Oh, God! You're going to split me wide open!" He stroked my thighs. "Reach back, Jen, and spread yourself." I reached back and spread my buttocks. I whimpered as I felt the head of his cock pressing against my anus. He eased himself into me slowly and carefully. It felt as if I was being split in half by a big soft wedge. I took a deep breath and held it until I felt his balls bounce against my pubes. I closed my eyes and sighed as he began to fuck my ass with long smooth strokes. His balls bounced against me each time he thrust. After a moment or two I slipped one hand between my legs and began to masturbate. He began to thrust faster and faster and I tried to keep up. Finally, he groaned and slammed into me one last time, shooting his sperm deep into my rectum. I came a few moments later. I was hot and sweaty and my ass was sore but I felt good. I'd paid my debt. After a few minutes I got up and went to take a shower. I could feel his cum running down my thigh as I walked into the bathroom. It made me feel incredibly sexy! We continued to date until graduation but he never whipped me again. Nor did he ever fuck me in the ass again. But we masturbated in front of each other fairly often. He'd sit on his bed, or on the rear bumper of his truck, and I'd get down on my knees in front of him. And we'd masturbate. When he came he'd shoot his load over my face and chest. After graduation he went to work on the Cape and when the summer was over he went to Stanford and I went to Yale. The night before he left we went out to the reservoir. I stripped and got down on my knees in front of him. He came first and shot his load over my face and tits. After I came I glanced up at him. "You have to piss, don't you?" He nodded. "Yes." I smiled. "Go ahead. Piss. On me." He was reluctant but I talked him into it. He pissed on me, on my head and chest and belly. I kept my mouth closed and my eyes open. It was deliciously humiliating. Yale was boring. The men were too wimpy for the most part and the women were either too jealous or too butch. I bought a vibrator but it was way too enjoyable and I threw it away after using it twice. After that I relied on my fingers. Then, in the spring of my senior year I met a girl named Iris Wang. She was delicate Chinese beauty from San Francisco. It was lust at first sight. For me, at least. She acted very casual. I spent every spare moment trying to seduce her but she acted as if she didn't notice. One night she came to my apartment to borrow some paper for her printer. I gave her a full ream of paper and followed her back upstairs to her place.
She filled her printer and then offered to make tea. I accepted. When she handed me a cup of tea I smiled and thanked her. "Tell me, Iris. What do I have to do to get into your pants?" She smiled and shrugged. "Don't you ever give up?" I shook my head. "Never. I love you." She smiled again. "What are you going to do after graduation? What do you want out of life?" I took a deep breath. "I want to spend my life pleasing you. Worshipping you. I want to be your slave." She put her cup down. "Take your clothes off, Jen." I stood up and took my clothes off. She tapped her finger on the table. "Get up here and stretch out. On your back." I obeyed. She spent almost an hour examing my body. She asked a lot of questions and I answered truthfully, telling her about Cullen. I had to explain the scar on my knee (soccer injury), the scar on my shoulder (a fall when I was seven), and tiny scar under my chin (fight with an opposing player during a basketball game). She stroked me and fondled me and inspected every inch of my body. She spread my labia and slipped three fingers into my vagina. She spread my buttocks but she didn't penetrate me there. She inspected my teeth. She cupped my breasts and squeezed them gently, lifting them to judge their weight. Finally, she told me to get down and go sit on the sofa while she finished her paper. I reached for my clothes but she said, "No, no clothes. Never while we're alone." I sat down on the sofa and pulled my legs up, wrapping my arms around them, resting my chin on my knees. It took her more than an hour to finish her paper. When she was done she came and sat beside me. "Tomorrow you'll move in here. No sense in wasting money on two apartments." I pointed out that my lease had two months to run and we wouldn't save anything. She stroked my thigh and said, "I'll speak to the landlord. I'm sure he'll listen to reason." That was six months ago. Iris is in grad school now and I'm working for a local accounting firm. I dress appropriately - conservative suits in gray or blue, with crisp tailored blouses. I wear my skirts short because Iris likes to have me show off my beautiful legs. She hates pantyhose so I wear thigh highs. My underwear is plain cotton, gray or white, usually Haines. Most of my coworkers seem to like the way I dress. I often wonder what they 'd think if they could see me nude. See my total lack of pubic hair, the result of months of expensive and painful electrolysis treatments. Or see the rings that adorn my nipples, labia, and clitoral hood. Delicate rings of 18-carat gold. Usually the rings are all connected by delicate gold chains. My clit is pierced by a stainless steel stud that keeps me aroused much of the time. And I have a tattoo just above my pubes. There are two lines that read `This slave the property of Iris Wang.' Iris takes care of me and provides for all of my needs. She gives me pain, humiliation, and mind-blowing sex in proper proportions. She knows what I like, what I crave, and what I fear. I like being displayed nude in front of her friends. I crave being humiliated in front of them. I crave sex, hard raw sex. I fear knives and rubber dog whips and anything sharp. All she has
to do is put a single acupuncture needle out on the table and I start to cry and shiver and plead. One night we were out at a lesbian bar not far from campus. There was a small stage in back and one of the leatherdykes had her girlfriend dancing nude on stage. Iris told me to get up and join her. When I hesistated she dropped a hatpin on the table. I was up on stage, nude, within thirty seconds. I danced with the other slave for almost an hour, until we were both exhausted and drenched with sweat. When I was finally allowed to return to our table Iris handed me the hat pin and said, "Put it through your right nipple. Now." I cried and pleaded but in the end I pushed the hat pin through my nipple.
It was hard and it hurt like hell. I sat there sobbing while Iris finished her drink. Finally, she let me put my shorts and tank top back on and we left. Back home, she removed the pin, treated the wound, and then held me while I cried myself to sleep. Our routine doesn't vary much from day-to-day. I'm up by five and out of the house for my run by five-fifteen. When I get home I strip, shower, and then prepare breakfast for Iris. I serve her breakfast in bed and kneel beside the bed while she eats. I am, of course, nude at all times when in the house. We talk about our plans for the day while Iris eats. I always prepare enough for two and she feeds me scraps with her fingers. After she's done I wash the dishes and then I get dressed and go to work. Iris usually has a class she's taking or one's she's teaching. I'm out of the house by 7 a.m., at work by 7:30. I have thirty minute for lunch and I'm off at 4 p.m. I arrive home by 4:30 unless I have to stop at the supermarket. I strip, attend to my chores, and then wait for Iris if she's not already home. We eat in most nights and then she studies while I read or watch television. Many nights that's all we do before going to bed. Some nights she fucks me with a strap-on. If I've displeased her she fucks me in my ass. If I've really displeased her I spend the night on my knees, with clamps on my nipples, labia, and the tender skin of my inner thighs. Sometimes I'm blindfolded and have a penis gag in my mouth. On rare occasions I'm whipped with a rubber dog whip. It's the worst pain you can imagine. And no amount of begging, screaming, or pleading deters her. When she uses it she whips me until I'm hoarse from screaming. But the worst thing she does is to allow another to use needles on me. I'm never restrained. The last time it happened I'd broken one of her favorite antique vases. She brought home a cute little redhead from the club and let her torment me with a handful of acupuncture needles. I sat on a stool in the middle of the kitchen, sobbing, while the redhead used the needles to decorate my nipples, labia, and tongue. I didn't dare move or resist because I knew the dog whip was waiting. I threw my head back and moaned in agony when the redhead crouched and pushed my knees apart. She stared up at me, grinning, as she pushed the last needle though my clit. Then Iris made me kneel at the foot of the bed and watch while she and the redhead made love. Later, after the redhead was gone, Iris removed the needles and treated the wounds. When she was done I crawled to her on my belly and licked her feet. Then I apologized for breaking the vase. I promised I'd try harder to be a better slave. She took me to bed and rubbed my belly until I fell asleep. Iris will be done with grad school in a few months. Then were moving to California, to San Francisco. I won't work in San Francisco, I'll be a full-time house slave. She's promised to find a pretty little slave to help me. I can't wait. The End >
A Slave's Story by Laura Lynn Davis, M/F, F/F From: "Laura Davis" ldavis4@hotmail.com (mailto:ldavis4@hotmail.com) For as long as I can remember I've wanted to be a slave, to have someone else control me and use me as they wish. I don't know why because I wasn't abused as a child, not sexually, physically, or mentally. In fact, I was an over achiever. My parents encouraged me as much as they encouraged my brothers. I was the youngest of three children and the only girl. We were always told we could be anything, do anything, and all it took was an education and commitment. At seventeen I was tall, athletic, blonde, and beautiful. I ranked in the top ten in my class, was the female athlete of the year, and was dating a guy I'd known since kindergarten. Everyone said we were the ideal couple and assumed we'd get married after college. They also assumed that we were sleeping together but they were wrong. Cullen was gay, something I'd known since sixth grade. But we had fun on our dates and I didn't have to worry about
being pressured for sex. I was sixteen when I told Cullen about my desire to be a slave. We talked about it a lot, analyzing it, trying to find a reason. But we didn't. I'd read some historical novels, bodice rippers where the heroine it captured by pirates, sold into slavery, and abused before being rescued by a handsome man who whisked her off to a life of leisure and unimaginable ecstasy. It all sounded good to me. At least up until the part where she's rescued. I didn't want to be rescued. I wanted to spend my life as a slave. Once in a while I'd give Cullen a blowjob and once in a while he'd masturbate me or go down on me. It was fun and it relieved the tension but it wasn 't the real thing for either of us. Once, shortly after my seventeenth birthday I talked Cullen into spanking me with his belt. We were hiking in the woods up past the reservoir. I was wearing shorts, a tank top, and hiking boots. I asked him to spank me and he refused. I wheedled and whined and he finally agreed. I stood under a convenient tree limb and he used my belt to secure my wrists to the limb. Then he eased my shorts and panties down. I wanted twenty-five hard strokes. "Or until I'm crying and begging you to stop. Which ever comes first." "Ten. And not that hard." "Twenty. Very hard." We went back and forth for a while. I held out for twenty. Finally, I said, "Do twenty as hard as you can and then you can fuck me in my ass." He cut my panties off with a knife and used them to gag me, pushing them into my mouth and then tying them in place with one of my bootlaces. I gasped in shock when he brought the belt down across my ass. It hurt worse than I 'd ever imagined! He took his time, making sure that he spread the strokes over my entire ass. I was crying after four, sobbing after six, screaming after eight, begging him to stop. But the gag muffled my screams and he paid no attention. I took the full twenty. I didn't stop crying for a good twenty minutes. By then we were almost back at the car. That night he picked me up at 7:00 to go to the movies. But we didn't go to the movies. His parents were away for the weekend and we went to his house. I took my clothes off and stretched out on his bed, on my belly, and put my head on my crossed arms. He slipped a pillow under my hips and then he spread my buttocks with one hand while he lubricated my anus with Vaseline. "Your ass is still red. The welts will last for days. Better not let you mom see your butt." I whimpered as he eased his finger into my anus to spread the Vaseline around. I glanced over my shoulder as he straddled me. His cock was beautiful - a good 7" long and fairly thick. He was circumcised and the head of his cock was purple, like a plum. I moaned. "Oh, God! You're going to split me wide open!" He stroked my thighs. "Reach back, Jen, and spread yourself." I reached back and spread my buttocks. I whimpered as I felt the head of his cock pressing against my anus. He eased himself into me slowly and carefully. It felt as if I was being split in half by a big soft wedge. I took a deep breath and held it until I felt his balls bounce against my pubes. I closed my eyes and sighed as he began to fuck my ass with long smooth strokes. His balls bounced against me each time he thrust. After a moment or two I slipped one hand between my legs and began to masturbate. He began to thrust faster and faster and I tried to keep up. Finally, he groaned and slammed into me one last time, shooting his sperm deep into my rectum. I came a few moments later. I was hot and sweaty and my ass was sore but I felt good. I'd paid my debt. After a few minutes I got up and went to take a shower. I could feel his cum running down my thigh as I walked into the bathroom. It made me feel incredibly sexy! We continued to date until graduation but he never whipped me again. Nor did he ever fuck me in the ass again. But we masturbated in front of each other fairly often. He'd sit on his bed, or on the rear bumper of his truck, and I'd get down on my knees in front of him. And we'd masturbate. When he came he'd shoot his load over my face and chest. After graduation he went to work on the Cape and when the summer was over he went to Stanford and I went to Yale. The night before he left we went out to the reservoir. I stripped and got down on my knees in front of him. He came first and shot his load over my face and tits. After I came I glanced up at him. "You have to piss, don't you?" He nodded. "Yes." I smiled. "Go ahead. Piss. On me." He was reluctant but I talked him into it. He pissed on me, on my head and chest and belly. I kept my mouth closed and my eyes open. It was deliciously humiliating. Yale was boring. The men were too wimpy for the most part and the women were either too jealous or too butch. I bought a vibrator but it was way too enjoyable and I threw it away after using it twice. After that I relied on my fingers. Then, in the spring of my senior year I met a girl named Iris Wang. She was delicate Chinese beauty from San Francisco. It was lust at first sight. For me, at least. She acted very casual. I spent every spare moment trying to seduce her but she acted as if she didn't notice. One night she came to my apartment to borrow some paper for her printer. I gave her a full ream of paper and followed her back upstairs to her place.
She filled her printer and then offered to make tea. I accepted. When she handed me a cup of tea I smiled and thanked her. "Tell me, Iris. What do I have to do to get into your pants?" She smiled and shrugged. "Don't you ever give up?" I shook my head. "Never. I love you." She smiled again. "What are you going to do after graduation? What do you want out of life?" I took a deep breath. "I want to spend my life pleasing you. Worshipping you. I want to be your slave." She put her cup down. "Take your clothes off, Jen." I stood up and took my clothes off. She tapped her finger on the table. "Get up here and stretch out. On your back." I obeyed. She spent almost an hour examing my body. She asked a lot of questions and I answered truthfully, telling her about Cullen. I had to explain the scar on my knee (soccer injury), the scar on my shoulder (a fall when I was seven), and tiny scar under my chin (fight with an opposing player during a basketball game). She stroked me and fondled me and inspected every inch of my body. She spread my labia and slipped three fingers into my vagina. She spread my buttocks but she didn't penetrate me there. She inspected my teeth. She cupped my breasts and squeezed them gently, lifting them to judge their weight. Finally, she told me to get down and go sit on the sofa while she finished her paper. I reached for my clothes but she said, "No, no clothes. Never while we're alone." I sat down on the sofa and pulled my legs up, wrapping my arms around them, resting my chin on my knees. It took her more than an hour to finish her paper. When she was done she came and sat beside me. "Tomorrow you'll move in here. No sense in wasting money on two apartments." I pointed out that my lease had two months to run and we wouldn't save anything. She stroked my thigh and said, "I'll speak to the landlord. I'm sure he'll listen to reason." That was six months ago. Iris is in grad school now and I'm working for a local accounting firm. I dress appropriately - conservative suits in gray or blue, with crisp tailored blouses. I wear my skirts short because Iris likes to have me show off my beautiful legs. She hates pantyhose so I wear thigh highs. My underwear is plain cotton, gray or white, usually Haines. Most of my coworkers seem to like the way I dress. I often wonder what they 'd think if they could see me nude. See my total lack of pubic hair, the result of months of expensive and painful electrolysis treatments. Or see the rings that adorn my nipples, labia, and clitoral hood. Delicate rings of 18-carat gold. Usually the rings are all connected by delicate gold chains. My clit is pierced by a stainless steel stud that keeps me aroused much of the time. And I have a tattoo just above my pubes. There are two lines that read `This slave the property of Iris Wang.' Iris takes care of me and provides for all of my needs. She gives me pain, humiliation, and mind-blowing sex in proper proportions. She knows what I like, what I crave, and what I fear. I like being displayed nude in front of her friends. I crave being humiliated in front of them. I crave sex, hard raw sex. I fear knives and rubber dog whips and anything sharp. All she has
to do is put a single acupuncture needle out on the table and I start to cry and shiver and plead. One night we were out at a lesbian bar not far from campus. There was a small stage in back and one of the leatherdykes had her girlfriend dancing nude on stage. Iris told me to get up and join her. When I hesistated she dropped a hatpin on the table. I was up on stage, nude, within thirty seconds. I danced with the other slave for almost an hour, until we were both exhausted and drenched with sweat. When I was finally allowed to return to our table Iris handed me the hat pin and said, "Put it through your right nipple. Now." I cried and pleaded but in the end I pushed the hat pin through my nipple.
It was hard and it hurt like hell. I sat there sobbing while Iris finished her drink. Finally, she let me put my shorts and tank top back on and we left. Back home, she removed the pin, treated the wound, and then held me while I cried myself to sleep. Our routine doesn't vary much from day-to-day. I'm up by five and out of the house for my run by five-fifteen. When I get home I strip, shower, and then prepare breakfast for Iris. I serve her breakfast in bed and kneel beside the bed while she eats. I am, of course, nude at all times when in the house. We talk about our plans for the day while Iris eats. I always prepare enough for two and she feeds me scraps with her fingers. After she's done I wash the dishes and then I get dressed and go to work. Iris usually has a class she's taking or one's she's teaching. I'm out of the house by 7 a.m., at work by 7:30. I have thirty minute for lunch and I'm off at 4 p.m. I arrive home by 4:30 unless I have to stop at the supermarket. I strip, attend to my chores, and then wait for Iris if she's not already home. We eat in most nights and then she studies while I read or watch television. Many nights that's all we do before going to bed. Some nights she fucks me with a strap-on. If I've displeased her she fucks me in my ass. If I've really displeased her I spend the night on my knees, with clamps on my nipples, labia, and the tender skin of my inner thighs. Sometimes I'm blindfolded and have a penis gag in my mouth. On rare occasions I'm whipped with a rubber dog whip. It's the worst pain you can imagine. And no amount of begging, screaming, or pleading deters her. When she uses it she whips me until I'm hoarse from screaming. But the worst thing she does is to allow another to use needles on me. I'm never restrained. The last time it happened I'd broken one of her favorite antique vases. She brought home a cute little redhead from the club and let her torment me with a handful of acupuncture needles. I sat on a stool in the middle of the kitchen, sobbing, while the redhead used the needles to decorate my nipples, labia, and tongue. I didn't dare move or resist because I knew the dog whip was waiting. I threw my head back and moaned in agony when the redhead crouched and pushed my knees apart. She stared up at me, grinning, as she pushed the last needle though my clit. Then Iris made me kneel at the foot of the bed and watch while she and the redhead made love. Later, after the redhead was gone, Iris removed the needles and treated the wounds. When she was done I crawled to her on my belly and licked her feet. Then I apologized for breaking the vase. I promised I'd try harder to be a better slave. She took me to bed and rubbed my belly until I fell asleep. Iris will be done with grad school in a few months. Then were moving to California, to San Francisco. I won't work in San Francisco, I'll be a full-time house slave. She's promised to find a pretty little slave to help me. I can't wait. The End