Black Master white slave Life Journey Master Responds
When I had my slave write about our personal life as a Black Master and white slave, I never expected the number of emails he would be receiving. I gave him permission to respond to them for two weeks without my permission. After this time, I'll check his personal email account and give him time to respond under my supervision. I limit his personal time on the computer, unless it's work related. I must also approve all of his incoming and outgoing emails otherwise.
Several emails were from young men who hope to find a Master to claim them as property. Several emails asked how frequently and to what extent my slave receives pain or punishment. My slave is the one who suggested maybe they should hear about our lifestyle from a Master's point of view. So, here's my side of the story.
I'm one year older than my slave. I'm seven minutes older than my twin brother; we have a sister who is three years older. We grew up in a middle class neighborhood to parents who were both teachers. My dad retired as a middle school principal, and my mom retired as a math teacher in a community college. We grew up with friends who were black, white, Hispanic, Asian, and Vietnamese. We learned to accept everyone as God's children, and my parents had no problem when my sister came home and introduced us to her white fiancée, who has been her husband for almost thirty years. Although I own a white man, I have nothing against white people, or any ethnic group for that matter.
My slave's parents were older when they married. For eight years after graduating from college, his mom was living in New York City working as an actress when her parents both got sick and she returned back to Santa Fe to help take care of them. This is where he was born, but he grew up in Colorado. His dad was an Army career man when they met. He later retired and went into real estate; his mom taught high school speech classes. As my boy told you, he's an only child.
I also dated both black and white men before we met. During college, one white boyfriend of mine asked me to give him a spanking. This was my first experience in a real life Dominant role. I found great pleasure in giving him a hard, bare ass spanking. The first time he called me Sir; I knew this was my destiny. Unfortunately he didn't want to be my slave, but I did dominate him throughout college.
Picturing him naked and on his knees, waiting for me to enter the room, not knowing what to expect from me once I walked in always got my dick hard. Believe me, I liked dominating him, and I liked the power I had over him. I liked the feeling knowing he was at my mercy. And I loved hearing him call me Sir.
It got many pleasures watching his ass go from its olive skinned color to toasty red with an occasional welt or two once I finished with him. Eventually I started handcuffing him to give even harder spankings. The harder and more degrading I got with him, the more submissive he would become to me.
Watching him squirm as he was handcuffed and at my mercy as to when I would release him gave me a natural high. Degrading him seemed so natural to me, and knowing he was at my mercy brought me a feeling of enjoyment. Hearing his pleas of pity as the paddling was getting harder only made me want to paddle him harder. After all, it wasn't my ass that would be red for a few days. It wasn't me who would be having trouble sitting down after I finished. I was in control and loving every second of it; he was willing to endure my brutality to him.
Being a Dominant was my natural status as being a submissive was his. During my junior year in college, I accepted this as my destiny: I wanted to continue my role and move up to the next level by owning a male slave. I wanted to completely own and control every aspect of another man. If he had been interested, I have no doubt he would have been an obedient slave.
After college, I dated several different men, but none of them showed a submissive side. When I was twenty-eight, I met Curtis, a black man two years younger than me, who became my slave. The same rules I introduced to my slave/husband were introduced to Curtis. Life was going well as he accepted his status as my property and slave. I was caught off guard on a Saturday morning right after he drank my morning piss.
He asked if we could change our roles from Master and slave to boyfriends because he was finding being a slave to be too difficult. I told him this would not be an option, and after about an hour of discussing this, I granted him his freedom. The assets he signed over to me were given back to him. I missed having a slave and hoped I could find another one soon. About a year and a half later, my boy accepted his lifetime appointment.
Both our gaydar were working the day we met in the hotel banquet room for a luncheon. I took my time getting a soda at the refreshment table so he could make it there. For a slave, he is an intelligent and charismatic individual by nature. I enjoyed having lunch with him and hoped he had an undiscovered submissive side to him.
The more we talked, the more I pictured him naked, collared, and kneeling at my feet. The more he smiled and laughed, the more I pictured his shaved naked body at my beck and call. Any gay man who would have met him would have been proud to call him a boyfriend or husband, but I wanted him to be my slave.
His charming and charismatic personality was an asset, and I wondered how hard it would be for me to train him into the docile property and slave I wanted him to become. The more we talked, the more I kept thinking of him as my slave and property and the satisfaction I would have in owning him. I realized I couldn't own him immediately; I would have to first train him as a submissive if there was any chance of his acceptance that he was meant to serve a strong and dominant man.
On our first date, after kissing heavily for a few minutes, he went directly to my crotch to try and suck my dick. Of course I wanted to bend him over and fuck the shit out him, but at the same time, I wanted to begin testing his submissiveness to me. When I told him I didn't want that on our first date, the guilt and embarrassment on his face, along with his apology, made me think he had an untapped submissive side that needed to come out. For the rest of the night and even the next night on our second date, he kept apologizing to me. When I later told him in my firm, dominant voice to stop apologizing, he told me "I'm sorry to upset you." He tried to hide the few tears he had running down his face from me. At that moment, I realized I was now looking at my new slave.
Telling me I could do whatever and whenever I wanted with his body was the second sign he was my slave in the making. He didn't catch on at first when I told him I would take him up on his offer. Sitting on his face the first time, his tongue was going deeper and deeper in my ass until I lifted up on him only to ram his willing mouth with my dick. I gave him no break when he went from rimming to sucking. Looking down at him as my dick went as far down his throat as I could go, brought me peace knowing that if he accepted my offer, he would be fairly easy to train. I was now confident he would accept my three- month submissive training period. I realized that I would have to be extra tough on him during this time in breaking him of his independent personality; then his slave training would be much easier for me.
When I tied him up the next night, once again, he accepted it so naturally. He was making it too easy for me. About two minutes after I finished fucking his swimmers build, bubble butt, the phone rang. It was a bottom I dated whenever he was in town. I left him tied up for about twenty minutes while we talked. When I returned, my future boy was lying there looking relaxed and calm for his first being time in bondage. As we made eye contact, I knew I would enjoy the moment he began his life in servitude. Once his submissive training ended, he was smiling as he kissed my feet in submission before signing his slave contract.
To the young men who hope to be slaves, let me say to you that in the lifestyle, a Master must give punishment to his slave when he is deserving of it. I am the only one who punishes my slave. My slave was so eager to become my property, which is why he was so easy to train and is, not punished that often. He performs his duties well and is very efficient in doing them. Of course I inspect his work and have him redo any task that doesn't meet my expectations.
He knows that if he repeatedly does a good job and pleases me, he may earn an occasional--very occasional-- reward such as me taking him out to dinner. Once or twice a year, I may let him caddie for me when I golf on the weekends, or I let him occasionally come swimming in the pool at my condo with me. These are things he takes pleasure in receiving, so he works hard to please me in order to earn them. Believe me, I am not generous in giving him rewards; he's a slave after all who is doing what is required of him. Believe me, I feel no guilt at all if he screws something up and loses the opportunity for a reward and instead receives a punishment instead.
Sixteen years later, I still keep him collared when he is in my home. He is responsible for putting it on in the morning, when he returns from work, and taking it off at night when I give him permission to do so. He still shaves the required parts of his body daily. In winter months, I require him to shave from his face down to his toes. He is allowed to grow the hair on his arms and legs in warmer months. I'm seriously thinking of having him shave his entire body year round as my brother does with his property.
During the workweek, I sometimes pee in a special travel mug I keep in a desk drawer. It's then kept it in a refrigerator I have in my office. When I return home, I give him his "chilled wine" to enjoy before he serves me dinner. He was trained to treasure both my piss and my cum as two very precious gifts I share with him. If he misses a drop of either as my dick is pumping his throat, he licks up the area of my body or the floor where it spilled. He's then given an extra hard spanking and punished for his negligence in his duties.
I particularly like those times we all have peeing when it seems like we're never going to stop. He apologizes to me when I tell him I had to pee in a toilet and waste a good load of my piss that could have gone down his throat. I could pee and cum a gallon in his mouth, and he'd swallow every drop. For some reason, I always enjoy hearing him gulp down my piss. He doesn't swallow my piss every time I pee, but he swallows enough.
One thing that surprised me, and I allowed it to progress, is his fetish with my feet. Originally, I required that he kiss my feet in the morning and before bedtime as an act of gratitude in beginning and ending his day as my property. During a foot massage soon after I claimed him, he asked if he could smell the soles of my feet, which had been socked for over twelve hours. I noticed his little slave dick got so hard. I asked him what he wanted to do next, and he licked the soles of my sweaty feet.
A few minutes later he was using his tongue to clean between my toes, and later got another hard-on when I let him suck my toes. He then learned how to give me a pedicure. Here's another pleasure he enjoys when I let him worship my feet. All I would have required of him would have been the morning and evening kiss. He lives to worship my feet. Only a slave would find excitement in worshiping the smelly, sometimes stinky feet of a strong, dominant man.
As I said earlier, my slave is a good conversationalist, but I require that he is seen and not heard. At night, while I'm relaxing, I usually have him in his relaxed pose in the corner. Standing up with his hands on his side is comfortable enough for a slave to spend his evening. He's near me when I need something, but out of my way the rest of the time. Watching television on the floor and using his shoulders as my footrest too often might spoil him into thinking this could become a daily routine.
His punishment pose is in the corner with his hands grasped in the middle of his back. Whenever he's in the corner, he is expected to do the same thing: to keep quiet, and not move around too much. Punishment on his knees is given for more serious infractions since this is harder on him than standing up. His hands are still behind his back, and when he is on his knees, any correction at all results in doubling the punishment time for each correction. Over the years, I've used a variety of things on his ass when I spank him, but caning him is my favorite and the one I use 99 percent of the time now. I like the sound it makes as I beat the shit out of him, and it leaves his ass nice and red for a little longer.
I rarely keep in bondage, and I am the only who can punish him. After a punishment, he always feels so guilty for disappointing me that he works even harder to please me. About two months ago, he asked if he could buy a new pair of designer jeans to wear to work on assigned jeans days. When I told him no, he began to question my decision. For this he was spanked every morning and every evening for a week for thinking like a free man. He was also required to wear leg restraints the entire time he was home during that week--including sleeping with them.
For the first two nights he was in the corner on his knees from the time we finished dinner until bedtime. For the next five nights he was standing in his punishment pose. He also lost his weekly allowance for one month to remind him of how generous I am in giving him a weekly allowance. Under no circumstances do I ever tolerate my slave questioning any decision I make or his deciding to think and act like a free man.
My slave got used to CBT, one of my favorite things to do to him, quickly. On the bondage table, I am more forceful with him on this. On any normal day, I may simply go up to him and grab and squeeze his balls firmly. Sometimes I'll punch them a few times just so I have my fun at his expense. I don't want him in pain too often because if he's in too much pain, he'll be unable or will have difficulty in performing his duties, and I want him available to take care of my personal and sexual needs.
One thing my slave had a hard time in accepting at first was when I told him I would be in an open relationship. Even today, at times I can tell he sometimes has a hard time when I have another man in my bedroom. On those nights he sleeps on the floor in the guestroom. He makes me laugh with his slave mentality after a sleepover date leaves in the morning. Sometimes he'll drop something on purpose in front of me, bend down with his cute, inferior, slave ass, and pick it up. I get a kick out of it--typical slave mentality. Curtis, my first slave, used to do similar things to try and get my attention after a date left the house. I get a kick out of how simple slave mentality can be amusing at times. You think by now he'd know, I'll fuck him when I want to and not when he makes a comical attempt to try and get me horny.
Usually when I fuck him I lean him over the bondage table and have my way with him. Other times, I have him lay a sheet over my bed so his slave ass doesn't touch my sheets. This way it makes it easier for me to fuck him in different positions. Once I finish with him, he removes the sheet and get back on the floor where he belongs.
Sometimes I'll cuddle with him when we travel. I figure it this way. The furniture in a hotel room or on a cruise ship is not my furniture, so it's okay is his slave ass touches it. He enjoys these times when I cuddle with him. Of course, once cuddle time ends, he's once again back on the floor. Some Masters might want to take away my Master status for cuddling with a slave, but he is after all, not only my slave but also my husband.
My slave also told you about his weekly bondage table visits in February. A look of slight terror stays on his face for the entire month. I think this is a good thing for him to experience since it's another reminder to him of his status. Then, a few months later, when he least expects it, I'll again have him on the bondage table. These times are for him to remember whether he is doing well in his duties or being punished, he is property and I control every aspect of his life.
An email was sent asking about his sleeping with no pillow. For a few years I did allow him to use a pillow to sleep on. My brother still allows his slave the privilege of sleeping with one pillow. During one of his punishments several years ago, I took it away from him permanently. My condo has wooden floors in the living areas and plush carpeting in the bedrooms. I allow him to use a sheet to lie on the carpet year round and a blanket to keep warm in the winter. This provides more than enough comfort for a slave. His comfort level is of no concern to me; mine is. Believe me when I tell you that he has no problem falling asleep.
Having a slave makes my life so much more enjoyable since I have free labor: a housekeeper, chef, valet, chauffeur, masseuse, and errand boy all in one slave. He's impressed me from day one in his acceptance and his eagerness to become such an obedient slave. His life in servitude to me has allowed him to reach his true potential because being a slave is his destiny just as being a Master is mine.
Another Master friend of mine often says that slavery is not so much about the slave but is more about the Master. I like his thinking here. Serving, obeying, and worshiping me is his purpose, so yes, being a slave is more about the Master. I like the times I'm relaxing at home and watching him cooking, cleaning, ironing, and keeping busy with other tasks I've assigned to him. I work very hard with long hours quite often; that's why I like the idea that on weekends I'm able to relax, go out and have my fun, and yes, even go out on a date, while I have a slave at home doing tasks I'll never have to do again. Believe me, it's a great feeling. And once again, I have no guilt enjoying myself while he's working; that's another perk in being a Master.
Sometimes when I'm entertaining in my home or being entertained in the company of other Masters and Mistresses in their homes, I'll look at him with the other slaves working so hard while we're relaxing and enjoying each other's company. It's a great feeling. I'm so glad I'm a Master and not some inferior human property.
Let me just say that yes, I do love him. In fact in 2008, we went to Canada and got married. I then legally changed his last name to mine; although, he keeps his birth name professionally since he is an established and well-respected businessman in the community. When marriage equality became official in the USA, we once again got married. With that said, he'll always be my property, my slave, and my inferior. When he signed his slave contract, he was told this was a lifetime position, and I intend to keep it that way.