slave thoughts

The daily tasks keep me busy and reasonably fit. There was a time when I had some trepidation about becoming owned 24/7, the thought that it would be all pain and suffering didn’t bother me at the time as that was part of the thrill, but I wondered about the other times. Life would have to go on as normal in so many other ways; would it all be worth it?

Now, obviously, I can answer yes in all respects. The relationship has flourished whilst our relative positions have hardened into their roles. I see myself only as a slave and Master as Master. 

He has a very fertile imagination when it comes to punishment. To the outsider that sounds as if it is administered as a result of misdemeanour. Far from it. It is a basis for the relationship and involves total trust, love and a sexual fulfilment that nothing else comes near to providing. Of course there is “punishment” as well. Things go wrong, I do stupid things that deserve reprimand and then it becomes totally clear that he is Master and in control of every aspect of my life. The cellar was designed to cope with every aspect of that. Uplighters built into the walls can be dimmed to nothing or raised to give off a warm yellow glow that floods the space with an even almost shadowless light. Then, above each of the specific pieces of equipment, there are halogen spots that cut through any gloom to reveal the subject in ice white and show every mark, every detail of the Master’s work.

These specialist pieces include a steel cage that reaches the ceiling but is only a bare eighteen inches square at the base.  The occupant goes in with his arms above his head from where there is no chance of movement, leaving the body unprotected, vital areas being reached through small doors opening at different levels. Sir generally ties my arms anyway when putting me in the cage, precautionary he calls it. Then there is the horse /fuck bench complete with shackles, a rack with stocks built into one end thus serving several purposes, a heavy wooden cross and most innocently of all two wooden posts set about 6 feet apart reaching from floor to ceiling as though they were simply helping to hold the ceiling in place. Closer inspection reveals sturdy metal plates to which steel rings are attached at intervals up each inside length.   A bench along one wall has a series of hooks above it holding various whips, shackles, masks, gags, straps and ropes, hoods, in fact all the average sadist might require once the victim is in place.  Shelves beneath hide a multitude of small items that all play a vital role.  It’s my job to clean, polish and generally maintain all these things so that they are ready to reduce me eventually  to the point which Master finds sufficiently submissive and sexually stimulating and decides to rest – for a while.