"Black Master white slave Life Journey"
Part 5: My journey into slavery
Since Master and I have been sharing our story on Nifty, we've continued to be amazed at the feedback we've received. Master has gotten several requests into whether or not he is looking for more slaves (he's not). Master responded to several emails telling readers that I do not think I've destroyed my life in becoming his slave nor do I suffer from extreme low self-esteem or have psychological issues for choosing a life in submission to a live of freedom.
Last night, Master was sitting on the sofa, and I was on the floor next to him while we were watching our favorite show, Antiques Roadshow, on PBS. At the same time, he was checking emails when he turned down the sound to read me an email he had received that afternoon. We weren't shocked that someone wrote Master telling him he would burn in hell because he was keeping me in slavery. This really got me angry. and I suggested to Master that maybe it was time for me to write about my acceptance and my enthusiasm in accepting his offer to be his slave.
First off, from a psychological standpoint, I have a sound mind. Professionally, I have worked in investment planning for two decades now, and I have a BA in English and an MBA in Finance. I've worked hard in my career to earn and maintain the professional reputation I have with my corporation and in the community. I perform my job duties as well as any employee does in his or her job. So no, I am not a submissive at work. My professional and home lives are two separate parts of me.
Personally, as I wrote earlier, I always dated both Black and white men, with a preference for Black men. When I met Master, I was twenty-eight-years-old (I turned twenty-nine two months after signing my slave contract) and I was hoping to meet Mr. Right to spend the rest of my life with. My mom died when I was ten. My dad was shocked at first and soon accepted the fact that his only child is gay when I told him two months after I graduated from college.
The only thing even remotely close to bondage I experienced was when Curtis, my black boyfriend in college, would sit on my face and pump my mouth with his BBC until I swallowed his cum. Being tied up, spanked, or having TT or CBT administered to me never crossed my mind. My experiences with the Master-slave experience was reading erotic stories similar to the ones on Nifty. I was totally naïve in this lifestyle.
Meeting Master was like meeting my "Knight in Shining Armor." I fell in love with him instantly; he's intelligent, charming, and charismatic, has a great sense of humor, and is also very handsome and sexy. His confidence shows through, which makes him even more attractive. I have always thought of and have loved him far many more things than for his Big Black Cock; although, his BBC is a nice part of the package too.
During our first date, I was falling madly in love with him while also hoping he would fuck me so hard I would have a hard time sitting down the next day. We dated as "equals" for one week, and each evening and night we spent together, I kept wondering how someone as dynamic and perfect as him was wanting to spend time with me when he could have had any man he wanted. I found myself wanting to do whatever I could to make him happy. When he pulled the handcuffs out of his nightstand drawer the first time, I was shocked for a few seconds.
He saw the look on my face and told me to calm down, that this wouldn't be so bad. I told him I had never been tied up before and told him I hoped to do everything I could to please him. He was smiling as he placed my wrists in the handcuffs before attaching them to the bedposts. I remember this like it was yesterday when he told me, "Now, just relax, so you'll enjoy it more."
I had fallen in love with him so fast, that all I could think about was what I could do to make him happy. Soon after being released from my first time in bondage, I enthusiastically accepted his offer to become his submissive. At the time, I wasn't exactly sure what that all entailed; I just knew that I wanted to please him. When he told me I could leave if I wasn't interested in doing this, the thought never even crossed my mind.
This was so new to me; I knew I would have to depend on him to teach me how to become a good sub. And, I was determined I would work my butt off doing everything I could do to please him. Master on the other hand had already had a submissive boyfriend in college and a slave who could no longer handle the limitations placed on him. Master was already comfortable with his Superior status; I was learning my new status as an inferior.
For three months, I was put through an intense training. I was quickly learning to handle the hard bare ass spankings I received when I messed up. They were and still are hard spankings, but I accepted them knowing that Master (Sir at the time) was doing this to help me in my training to be that good sub I hoped to become. TT and CBT were harder to accept, but each time I was exposed to them was easier. Shaving my body parts was never a problem, but accepting my nakedness took a few weeks to get used to. Each day, hard as it was in training, got easier, and I knew Sir (Master) was seeing progress in my duties. It quickly became so rewarding to me because I was able to serve him in so many ways: domestically, personally, and sexually.
On Day 90 of my submission, Sir (Master) got up earlier than usual for a Saturday morning. The offer he presented me to become his slave took place before 8:00 o'clock that morning, which gave give me twenty-four hours to make my decision. When he dismissed me to think about this offer, I thought there was no need for this because I could have given him my answer at that moment. As he walked out of his bedroom, I remember saying that I'd see him first thing in the morning. I then got dressed and left his home.
Earlier I wrote that I was so excited I kept jacking off in my enthusiasm about my new life I was about to begin. On Sunday morning I woke up at 4:15 wishing I had already picked up the letter of instructions under the welcome mat. Then as I was putting the coffee maker on, for a few minutes I panicked and began to think that maybe I was making a mistake. I began sweating profusely, and my heart was beating so hard, I thought for a few seconds that I was having a heart attack. I then sat on the sofa for the last time and began to relax.
Everything then came back to normal, and now I couldn't wait to go from calling him Sir to calling him Master. I then began wondering what additional duties Master had planned for me now that I was making a transition to slave status. I kept repeating things like, "Yes Master, No Master, Right away, Master," and I liked the sound of it. I packed a suitcase of clothes I would need for work on Monday since I wasn't sure when I would be coming back to my apartment. I knew I would be getting rid of some of the furniture I owned, but that would be Master's decision. I would also have to contact the real estate agent I had been working with hoping to buy a townhouse about a mile away from where Master lives.
When I signed my slave contract, Master then told me that I had another ninety days to get out of my contract if I could not handle living my life as a slave. On Day 90, I woke up and began my duties as usual. It was a typical Thursday morning. Neither Master nor I said anything about it being Day 90; there was no grand celebration; it was a workday, and everything went on as usual. Master left home earlier than usual that day because he had a meeting out of town.
He got home that night at 10:30 and was extremely tired. I had already pulled back the comforter to his bed and fluffed his pillows about an hour earlier. I then made my bed area, lay down, and waited for him to get home. He walked in the door, and I undressed him, and we went to bed. The next day during lunch, we met at the bank to open up a joint checking account, and life went on as usual. I had successfully completed my two probationary periods.
On Saturday morning after serving him breakfast, I kneeled before him while he sat in the chair in the corner of his bedroom. He reviewed my weekly expense report, personal emails, and cell phone calls as he does every Saturday morning.
He then showed me and then explained my new slave contract. We each signed it; the only difference was the ninety-day change of mind clause was taken out. I was now officially his slave and property; there was no turning back, and it felt so good. He then bent down, hugged me, and then kissed me on my forehead. I remember I was smiling at the time and told him that since I kneeled before him 182 days before as his submissive, I never had any desire to live my life with him as an equal
What some people may not understand about our alternative lifestyle (I hate this term.) within an alternative lifestyle is that from the very beginning Master outlined everything he expected of me, so he could enjoy the benefits he is entitled to in his role as a Superior. I knew from the very beginning what my day-to-day life duties would include, and I willingly and enthusiastically accepted them. We were and are two consenting adults who have consented to our two, very different roles.
Someone asked Master if he is a gigolo, since he is in an open relationship. My Master is not a gigolo or a whore in his sexual pleasures. He has two "friends with benefits" who he sees a few times a year. One lives in New York, and the other lives in Florida. The few times a year they each visit family here, they call Master, and they meet. Sometimes Master meets someone, and they may hook up for the night. That's his open relationship. I know this makes him happy, and I have learned to be happy for him.
As any slave would probably agree with me, there's a certain pride we proudly claim in being able to see our Masters or Mistresses being able to relax after working so hard in their jobs. It's nice to see them having a good time and not having to worry about doing tasks like housecleaning, cooking, laundry, yard work, etc. I know I like watching Master relaxing on the sofa or on the patio while I'm able to do household duties. I take pride in ironing his shirts, shining his shoes every week, and washing and waxing his car in the warmer months. It's those little things that make him happy, and I'm glad I'm here able to do them for him. Whenever people compliment him on how nice he looks or how his car is always so clean, this makes me happy because I know I was able to do these things for him.
After he has a hard day at work, I like it when I'm able to give him a nice, long, full body massage, and/or a foot massage to help him unwind. I like it at night when I wake up in the middle of the night and look up from my bed area to see him sleeping so comfortably in his bed. I then begin thinking maybe the way I fluffed his pillows are helping him get that restful night's sleep.
I also like it when he is able to enjoy an afternoon or evening with other Superiors. When he is with them, he looks so natural, and I always like to see him enjoying himself when he is with people equal to his status. The other slaves and I of course know that while the Superiors will be enjoying themselves, we of course will be very busy working for them to enjoy this time with each other. Master is always so happy, smiling, and laughing, during these occasions, and this also makes me happy that I had a part with the other slaves in doing this.
While I am always naked and collared, Master does not have me in bondage very often. The exception as you may have read is during February when we watch a few episodes of Roots every weekend. Other times are when we watch slave-themed movies as well. Two weeks ago, Master's Brother gave him a copy of Roots: The Next Generation. Last Sunday we started watching it, and of course, I am back on the bondage table until we finish watching it. Last weekend was the first time in a long time where I had to use my safe word, Huruma. This has been my safe word now for several years. It is Swahili for mercy and translated in English means sympathy.
As a financial planner, my job gets really busy from early January through tax season in April. Sometimes on a day when I originally planned to leave the office around 5:00 o'clock, I have to call Master and tell him I'll be late. Late during this time, can mean anywhere from ten minutes to three hours. Master understands this is my job, and all he asks of me is that I call him as soon as possible.
While I am home a good bit, I am not there 24/7/365. On many Saturday nights, Master and I go out and eat dinner and sometimes take in a movie or play when the community theater has a production. The exception of course is if a Superior is hosting an event at their home, then we attend that, and I am then busy working with the other slaves. On many Sundays after church, Master may pay for us to go out and eat lunch. Sometimes we may go out and eat lunch with other church members as well.
We are both established in our careers, and often times certain functions come up, which we should attend. During these functions, if we are able to attend them as a couple, we always go together. Sometimes, with some functions, only one of us is invited, and we attend it alone.
We each get four weeks of vacation every year. Sometimes we divide our time into four, week long vacations. Other times this isn't possible. However, we always try to schedule the week between Christmas and New Year's Day as one of those weeks. So yes, we do travel together and often.
This past Christmas holiday was spent in New York City. We actually saw the ball drop in Times Square this year. We've been there several times, but I had never been to the top of the Empire State Building because I suffer from claustrophobia. In the past, he would go to the top, and we'd decide on a location to meet when he returned.
My doctor usually prescribes Valium to me when I fly. Master talked to me and told me how much he thought I'd enjoy the view from the top of the building. I took a Valium to relax me, and he held my hand in the elevator while I closed my eyes during most of the elevator ride up there. I know it was only a few minutes, but it seemed like a week to me before we reached the top floor. Yes, Master was right; the view was beautiful. Other times during the Christmas holidays, we've been to Hawaii, Paris, the Napa Valley in California, Key West, and taken two cruises, among other places.
To me my Master represents everything Superior. I sometimes fantasize about him being king of his country. I picture him standing on the balcony of his castle addressing his subjects as they applaud their popular King. Other times, I picture him as an Emperor in ancient times. While he walks in the fields inspecting the crops, the field serfs all bow down and lower their heads while their Emperor walks by. Other times I picture him as the Master in Roots who watches as his foreman uses the whip on the backs of disobedient white slaves to punish them while the other white slaves are forced to watch.
Meanwhile, the reality is that he is my Superior, my King, my Emperor, my Husband, my Owner, and my Master. I enjoy my inferior slave status to him. I accepted it from the very beginning and would not ever think of wanting to change it. I enjoy doing my domestic and outdoor duties so he can enjoy his personal time in leisure and comfort. I enjoy keeping my body in shape to please him. I enjoy doing whatever it takes so I can be the best bottom I can for him. I work my hardest when he is with other Superiors so that if they should notice me, they might compliment Master and tell him what a well-trained and obedient property he owns.
All I know is the pleasure I've achieved since I accepted his offer of first submission and then of slavery. Giving up all my personal freedoms was never a difficult thing for me because I knew how much I loved him and wanted to please him. Pleasing him and serving him brings me so much pleasure and joy. Whenever I am punished, the guilt I experience from disappointing him is more of a punishment to me than the hard spanking I'll receive from his cane. The redness of my butt or the welts that may appear reminds me of this latest error on my part. The redness and welts are temporarily and will go away in a few days, but I am then forced to live with the knowledge that I did something to disappoint Master. This guilt soon stops dominating my mind, but a small part of it always remains in place.
This is my story, my journey into slavery. When I noticed the most handsome and sexiest man across the room during that charity luncheon sixteen-years-ago, I never imagined that he would indeed be a part of my life, as I am to him. For forty or so hours, I am a professional businessman, a career I thoroughly enjoy. However for the other hours in the week, I am a husband, a personal servant, a valet, a chef, a butler, a chauffeur, a masseuse, a manicurist, and slave. I'm a slave, his slave, whom he enjoys calling his boy. I'm his boy, and I'm happy.