Today we crossed another line, pushed the edge a little further. TodayI went to do my Thursday assignment. Being the domestic wench for our friends who one a pizza/pub in Las Vegas. When I arrived, I saw the wife’s car in the garage. That could mean she was back in town or was still gone on her trip back home to help with the sick family member and this time, left her car here.
When I entered the kitchen, I already saw my answer. Miss Patty (the wife) was home and we were alone. I knew this because I could see she was out by the pool and she was naked. Not topless like other times, she was naked. So I got naked as well and put my clothes on a shelf in the garage before going out to say hello. Miss Patty is a beautiful woman in her own right. The little beauty flaws other women moan about because life just gave them to us, she seemed to wear with pride as I approached.
Her sunglasses were the only thing she was wearing with her smile as she greeted me. Her breasts are nice, with a slight sag that says she has breastfed and have a little age to her life. Her nipples I know my Master-Sir would enjoy nibbling on as they stood to attention in the Las Vegas sun. Her stomach wasn’t flat, but it wasn’t pudgy or saggy like mine and her pussy was covered by a small bush of hair that told me she died her hair on her head black.
She asked me to get her a drink, juice and to bring myself one because she wanted to talk. “If that’s ok?” I told her I would and that for her, i have all the time she wants to talk. I love to talk when i can be me. Her nakedness seemed a little strange, she was enjoying the sun on her body without any covering or hiding. Her tan lines proved again, this was all new to her as well. It’s sad that even a mother with a privacy fence, a pool and a nice sized house to protect her, can’t feel safe and happy alone to be naked and to relax in the sun.
When I returned with our drinks, I knelt beside her and properly handed her her drink. Since all the experiences I had with Miss Evvy, I now do enjoy kneeling next to a woman and serving her. Miss Patty has a calmness about her and a smile that really does radiate when she gives it. She smiled and told me how sexy that was for her to watch. I smiled because I know a fluffy slave serving a drink cannot be “sexy” in any way or form. Just the act of being served, I think is what people find sexy. Staying beside her lounge chair, she told me to sit on the chair so we could be eye to eye. “Yes, Miss” always gets a smile from her.
She complimented me on my obedience and how I make it all look so easy and enjoyable. I told her it was. I enjoy being of service and making her feel relaxed and comfortable. letting me take the work and worry about the house off her shoulders so she can focus on bigger, more important things, like her sick family member.
Then came the question. The one question people want to ask. “What made you want to be a slave?” She offered a little background to the question. She and Charlie, her husband have been talking. He likes my subservient yet friendly way when we are at the restaurant or He is delivering us pizza. Kelly, their eldest son enjoys my wanting to talk to him about school, friends and other issues (being bullied) and how I must be when I am at home with my Master. She emphasized “Master”. So again. how did I know this was what i wanted?
I Didn’t Know This Was Who I am
I told her that i always loved to do things for the people i respected or if i felt they deserved it. The same thing sometimes so there is a fine line there. Certain elders in my family, school teachers who really wanted me to learn, friends that were always there for me as much as I was there for them. My Brother for all the times he defended me against the bullies in school.
In high school, i learned that if I needed help on a class project or to study for a test, to find a boy willing to work with me and afterward, reward them with a nice blowjob. Something I liked to do anyway and they would tell me that their girlfriends either never tried to give them one or if they did, it was at night in the back seat of their car. Never in the open daylight of a bedroom or study hall.
For the ones who really helped me study, i would offer to take my top down so they could feel my big soft tits. I knew this was going to get me the smart boys because their little princess all had tiny little tits hid behind padded bras that were usually locked down. Here they had a chance to feel and play with large filled ones with hard nipples they could pull on. But first, they had to help the fat chick with school work!
I loved how the pain made me smile and that i would sit there and just let them do whatever they wanted to them. i like to feel being manhandled by young men, that’s all they know how to do is squeeze and pull. So i just felt warm and fuzzy and happy. Often times I would just naturally kneel beside them in their chair and let them be rough with them. Enjoying how they just used me, used them while not caring if they hurt me or not. Not understanding why I loved it so much or why I was getting wet between the legs from it all.
After a while, I started to realize that all this breast play was also making their cocks harder and i apparently made a smile and pulled back like it hurt. It did, but that didn’t matter. I was happy being used and knew I was about to have another delicious cock to suck on once I knew what I needed to learn from the class notes.
Then i met my first real boyfriend. A “man” who said I was His. He was tall dark and handsome, not to mention older and one grade above me. To me He was handsome. To others, he looked a little geeky and nerdy guy who had strange friends. I liked that. He spent a lot of time in his computer stuff. This was back before the Internet broke everything wide open and boys who played video games were the nerds to stay away from. Not to Me!
He always was willing to help me with any school problem and he REALLY loved to see me topless. When we started to date, each date ended with me topless in one form or another and He would suck or nibble on my nipples after i sucked His cock.
He graduated before I did and was the first of his group of friends to move away from home, into his own apartment for college! i just simply followed along with him. Being that I loved him and I respected him, it was natural for me to go to His place often. While He played on His computer or talked with friends on the bulletin board (BBS?), I felt it was my duty to clean his place, organize it and make sure He was ok with drinks or snacks.
That led Him to ask that I am topless whenever i was there and alone with Him. Not a problem. It seemed natural and I enjoyed being that way for Him. His best friend Peter would come over so often that it became normal for Him to just knock, announce that He was there, open the door and walk right in. Being He was there often, He was sued to seeing me topless. Seeing me that way, He never looked away or said anything bad about it. He always complimented me on my beauty and would find reasons to touch them or to feel my breasts. I would never object. After the first few times, Peter did this, my boyfriend asked me if I was ok being topless when He was there.
Other than the first “Hello” they would ignore me most of the time anyway, doing whatever it is they did on computers back then. I smiled and went about doing what I needed to do to keep the place clean and the boys satisfied with drinks and snacks.
Thursdays were gamer, card or movie night with all his friends who still lived at home. Yes, Thursdays! My boyfriend said that I didn’t need to come over, that He would be busy with his friends playing games. I went over anyway as to be close to Him and it gave me time to study with a bunch of really smart kids to ask questions to if I had a problem and I could stay clothed.
Everything just seemed natural for me to do. For me to be the mother hen to all these young gamer guys who were not really versed in having a girl around them who cared. I would make the apartment neat and clean, put out the snack bowls. Once they were there, in between my reading, I would make sure they had fresh drinks and do a little cleaning up after them.
Him being the nerd with His own apartment plus He had a big boobed girlfriend who liked that He was a nerd, this offered him a chance to show off. I wasn’t topless and nobody got a blowjob, but He still made sure they noticed He had a girlfriend who had BIG boobs.
The Abused Child Syndrome
This, of course, made her stop me to ask “a sensitive” question. Since i Seemed to feel that serving others was normal, that having them ask me to be topless and I would just do it, I had to come from an abusive environment Right? That I needed that validation, I was fearing being punished for not pleasing an authority figure in my life. Right? Trust me, I have had plenty of conversations that went into the entire “abused” theories and none of them applied to me!
My parents were the 80’s poster child for proper parenthood. Show your kids that women are valued, that mom and dad are equal,. The Dad is not the authority figure and Mom is not the June Cleaver with white pearls doing house cleaning. Dad cleaned as mom did the cooking and they switched. We were never spanked or abused. They both lectured us and they both loved us. Everything was equal.
Yes, I had and still have body issues. But I had a great tight circle of friends who were outcast like me and we lived in the era when bullying was acceptable or at least tolerated. My friends were my social network as well as each others therapist. It just happened to be that I was one who really liked to explore what my body could be used for, even if it wasn’t pretty to others!
The Big Reveal!
When we usually had sex on the couch with me bent over and Him fucking me from behind as he wondered out loud how that looked since the curtains were usually never closed. The couch divided the kitchen from the living room so my tits were always hanging over the couch. He was fucking me one time when Peter walked in. Now That Was Strange! My boyfriend was really having His way with me and Peter just opened up the door, says “hello” then quickly steps out of the way and tries to hide in the kitchen once He realized what all we were doing.
I just wanted to run and hide, but He was too close to coming, so he yelled at Stay to stay so He could finish. When my boyfriend finally came, He pulled out, bent over to kiss me then I ran off to get dressed. I heard Him talking to Peter as He got dressed. They were talking about how He likes to do me from behind because of my big ass and wet pussy.
I waited a few minutes, got dressed and returned to the living room to say hello to Peter. My boyfriend kissed me and thanked me for finishing. It was that kiss and the thank you that settled me down. I felt better knowing that He was ok with it. I can remember being embarrassed yet very wet and excited that it happened. Not sure why. But I liked that I let him finish fucking before running off and hiding.
It sounds weird, but I could not stop thinking about that scene for days afterward. I was actually kind of impressed with how I could do that and not kill him to go hide. That I was doing as I was told and enjoyed the fact that He was ok with another man watching me getting fucked.
About a week later. Peter was in the apartment and my boyfriend had to run to class, leaving us alone. Peter smiled when I served him a cold soft drink and for whatever reason, i just sat on the floor to look up at Him when we talked. I did that with my boyfriend as well because, from this point, it was easier for them to play with my tits and to talk. I loved how Peter would talk intelligently about anything and everything. He could do it without ever losing his focus as He played with my tits.
That’s when He told me that “I was the perfect slave for my boyfriend”. maybe too good of a slave. I freaked! A WHAT?? I was furious at him for calling me such a thing, “A Slave?” I stood up and protested that racist, sexist and just crudely offensive remark. We freed the slaves over 100 years ago, I am Not A Slave! How?….
Peter let me get my point out before stopping me. Telling me to sit back down and listen to what He had to say. I was still fuming as I knelt beside Him. He was telling me to listen. Not asking. he was Telling Me! I was getting it all wrong.
He told me what His version of a slave was. A submissive and a slave are similar but not the same, I was the slave, a new kind of slave. I do as my boyfriend asks me, yet I want nothing in return except Him. His love, the smile and a place to belong. It’s not a doormat because when I talk I am full of interesting and informed points and opinions. (informed?). I had a value.
He asked me if I would be topless right now if He asked me to get topless? No, I would not, I was only topless when… Then I stopped and I paused. Peter smiled at me, telling me to look it up. He gave me a few websites (AOL) to look at and read a few stories. I would better understand what He meant.
Over the next few days, I did. When my boyfriend was away, I was on his computer looking, reading. The more I read, the more I wanted to read. He was right. It was me. I was really smiling and enjoying it more when my Boyfriend “asked” me to do something.
After that day, whenever Peter would be over, I would privately update Him on what I read, what I found and how i felt. We talked often on the phone and even exchanged a few emails.
I wanted more. When I approached my boyfriend about being a “Master”, He flipped out. He just could not understand what I really wanted. He saw it as being sick and twisted. I was just starting to understand it all and to understand what I really wanted. I wanted Him to stop asking and to start telling me what He wanted. To command me!
To Him, He just liked to see me topless. He loved that I was there for him and to do things for him while he did things for me. He also got a real kick to see his friends smile when they saw me topless. Afterward, each time I brought it up, He would stop talking. Calling me a sex freak or something crazy like that.
I was always a slave
Finally, one night Peter stepped in when He heard us talking or arguing. He was so calm and cool about it. After a few weeks of the talks and chats, He knew. Peter just looked at my boyfriend and simply asked what He would want for me? What would my boyfriend need for them to stay friends and to let his girlfriend become Peter’s slave-in-training?
WHAT?? I was flabbergasted at the idea. Maybe also a little excited to see a man want to “buy” me? He thought about it and finally, they came to an agreement and soon I was traded. I had no real say in it and I liked that. In the end, I was told to just go with Peter.
I was traded. My boyfriend traded me! I was really a slave. In exchange for me, my now ex-boyfriend would get a topless wench for His Thursday night gamer nights and a blowjob. Peter agreed. I would be here on Thursday nights, one hour before the game. Clean the apartment, set out snacks and be there, topless,. Afterward, I would give Him a blowjob and return to Peter’s place. By that time, Peter had moved into His own studio apartment.
We sealed the deal and to show I agreed, I kissed my ex-boyfriend as i had never kissed a man before. I was so happy! Seriously happy! now as a free woman who was handed off to a new man, a Master who like me, was in training. Although He was already a few steps ahead of me, we were both learning as we went. A free woman with a Master!
Being a slave wasn’t anything i grew up wanting to be. I wasn’t forced to be this way because of circumstances or upbringing. I just wanted to make other people I cared about, feel cared for. it was just Me. For some, that sounds sad because they think they need to learn to become a slave, like its a new skill to learn. and some do. I found it was me, it was always there, I just needed to have someone point it out and make me realize it is who i am and that my life would be better being me and living it out as much as i could. I would be miserable if i kept it hidden and to pretend it wasn’t there.