We walked back to my apartment - the first time I’d walked the route in weeks. I nervously told David this as we were leaving the bar, and he gave me a sympathetic smile and took my hand. “You’ll be safe with me,” he assured me, and I knew I would be - no-one would even be able to get near enough to hurt me with a mind-controller at my side.

The journey seemed to pass in a blur, my mind still a fog of fantasies as I led him back to my home. I led him inside, awkwardly conscious that my living room was kinda messy! The shirt I wore the previous day was lying on the arm of my couch. I cringed a little at the sight of it.

David seemed not to notice. “I like your apartment,” he said politely, taking off his jacket and placing it on a wooden chair in the corner of the room.

“Thanks,” I said nervously. “So, what do you want to do with me f-” I stopped mid-word, giving him my most sultry smile. “Wait... I think I know.”

All my inhibitions seemed to vanish as I unbuckled my belt again and whipped my pants down, kicking them aside. (More discarded clothes to litter my lounge, I know!) Then, at a more gradual pace, I hooked my thumbs inside my panties and began to tug them down too, slowly turning away from David as I did so. I bent over to continue to slip the underwear down my legs, giving him a very good view of my bare ass.

I stayed in that position longer than was strictly necessary, and was overjoyed to feel his hand reach beneath me. His fingers found my clit and massaged it for a magical couple of seconds, before sliding down along my entrance and tracing a line between my legs, reaching my butt. I felt him prise my cheeks apart, widening my back passage, and for a moment I half-expected him to start fucking me from behind. He pressed his pelvis up against my parted ass - which was when I realised he was still wearing his own pants - and rubbed against me, letting out a moan of desire. But he restrained himself, stepping back.

I had remained leaning over the whole time, practically touching my toes. Now I stood up straight again, stepping out of my panties and scooping them up with my right hand as I did so, and turning back to face him, my legs apart. With my left hand, I lifted up my black top at the front, to give him the clearest view possible of my slick, juicy pussy. His expression was pure, hungry lust - which was pretty much what I felt myself, as I’m sure certain parts of my anatomy had made very clear to him already!

“A good start?” I asked him.

“Definitely,” he said breathlessly, shaking his head in wonder.

I opened my mouth to ask him what to do next, when another idea struck me. I stuffed my panties into my mouth and closed it again. He grinned, seeming to enjoy that. I liked it too - I couldn’t speak clearly around my makeshift gag, which was so hot, and my panties were drenched in my own juices, which tasted delicious. Better than they ever had before, in fact! I was sure it was because of the unbelievably sexy situation I’d found myself in.

As he stepped towards me, it suddenly hit me that I had my panties in my mouth! I’d never done that before. It was him - he made me do it! (Duh, of course he did! Kind of the central conceit of the evening, Cindy!) The blindingly obvious revelation sent a huge surge of arousal through me, which only increased when I realised - despite now knowing I did not have my underwear in my mouth of my own volition, I couldn’t act in any way to remove them. I couldn’t get my hands to go to my mouth. I couldn’t even part my lips.

He reached out and stroked my face, running the back of his hand gently along the edge of my cheek and then down my neck, sending pleasurable tingles through me. I moaned happily and seized my top, pulling it up and over my head in one swift movement, and dropping it on the floor behind me. I was now wearing only my black bra - yes, every item of clothing I wore was black, other than my panties. I have a style, and it’s the style of a vampire. A Chinese vampire. (Would that be a jiangshi? Doesn’t matter.)

Tucking his hand into my right cup, David began to caress my boob, squeezing it and tweaking the nipple. I squirmed delightedly and bounced on the balls of my feet. Reaching behind me, I unhooked the bra, letting it drop to the floor. He didn’t let go of my right breast, and now that both were exposed, he began playing with the left one too. We spent a good minute like that, with me standing in place in the middle of my lounge, head lolling back in pleasure, eyes shut, moaning loudly through firmly closed lips as he fondled my tits, leaning down and sucking one after the other, gently biting them as he did so and leaving tiny, rapidly-vanishing tooth marks.

At one point he pinched each nipple between his thumb and index fingers, and slowly lifted them higher and higher, forcing me to go on tiptoes. Eventually he got them as high as they would go, at which point I was almost crying from the pain, waving my arms frantically on either side in a bid to keep my balance. If I fell over while he had such a tight grip on my nips, heaven help me. After what felt like forever but was probably only about ten seconds, he let go, allowing me to drop gratefully back onto the soles of my feet. I spat my panties out into my hand, only realising that I’d done it (or rather, that he’d had me do it) two seconds later, and inhaled and exhaled deeply, massaging my poor aching nipples.

He looked concerned, perhaps worrying he’d crossed a line. “Are you OK?” he asked earnestly.

“Yeah,” I answered honestly, giving him a wild-eyed smile. “That was awesome.”

He laughed, relieved, and I felt an irresistible urge to kiss him. So I did. Passionately, and at length. As we made out, I felt his hands running over my naked body, exploring all my nooks and crannies. (That’s a fun old saying, isn’t it? I’m not sure what’s the difference between a nook or a cranny, but he sure familiarised himself with both.) I responded in kind, reaching up his shirt to run my fingers through his chest hair (which he had in abundance), and then thrusting my hands down the front of his pants to find his cock (again, very much present, and pleased to meet me).

I wanted to straddle him there and then, and I started to lift my right leg to do just that, but something (I think we know what, or rather who) told me to wait, and build the anticipation. Though part of me felt I’d been anticipating for long enough, I obeyed the impulse and lowered my leg. Then I pulled my lips away from his, and slowly sank to my knees, our eyes locked on each other’s as I did so. As I knelt on the carpet, staring up at David with a blissful smile, I reached back into his pants and fished out his cock, which had grown so full and large that exposing it took very little effort - it practically sprang free.

Leaning forward, I began to tenderly kiss and lick his tip, and then ever so slowly started to take him in my mouth, lips edging up bit by bit as they worked together with my tongue to caress his pulsating shaft. I tried to draw it out as long as possible, but before I knew it I had him buried deep in my face, his tip brushing the back of my throat, my lips almost at the very base of his cock, his balls nestled against my chin, his pubic hair tickling my nose. Then, almost as slowly, I slid back and released him again, my mouth disgorging his cock with a wet pop.

My eyes darted up and found his again, seeing them full of overwhelming desire - somehow different from the lust I’d seen in them before, deeper. As if he’d gone beyond merely craving my body - now he needed it, like he needed air or water. He needed to fuck me. I knew that as surely as I knew I needed to fuck him - or rather, in that moment, I needed him to fuck me.

I opened my mouth as far as it would go, and this time I didn’t move forwards at all - I let him come to me. And he did, stepping forwards and thrusting his cock back down my throat, hard and fast, in and out, in and out. Even though I’d trained my gag reflex to reduce its sensitivity as much as possible, I had a moment of panic, feeling sure the sudden, aggressive face-fucking would set it off - which could ruin the whole night. But nothing happened, and my concerns dissipated, allowing me to relax, close my eyes, and enjoy the feeling of his dick sliding rapidly in my mouth. It was as arousing as if it were happening in my pussy, which grew wetter by the second. (Much later, he told me that as his powers affected the body as well as the mind, he could effectively switch the gag reflex off.)

I expected him to cum in my mouth, but instead he withdrew after a few minutes, breathing heavily. I pouted up at him, a little disappointed, and watched him take deep breaths in and out, trying to calm himself. He was trying to last longer, I realised. He’d probably have been happy to just let go and fill my throat to the brim, but he’d denied himself to continue the night - for my sake. I felt a rush of affection for him swell within me. He was so sweet!

“Get up,” he panted, tucking his cock back into his pants. I complied demurely, putting my hands behind my back as I stood before him. His eyes roamed over my body, drinking in the sight of me again and again. For my part I was rather enjoying being naked while he was still fully clothed - it made me feel vulnerable and exposed, and gave the impression that he was superior to me. He got to wear clothes - I wasn’t allowed. That was a thrilling thought. (Still not sure if it was my thought or his!)

He reached out and took hold of me by the throat, pulling me forwards a couple of steps - firmly but not aggressively, as if I were just an object that he needed to move. As his hand moved up and his fingers stroked my chin, cheeks and lips, he asked me, “Would you like to call me by a title? ‘Sir’, for instance, or ‘Master’?”

I’m sure my eyes lit up at the suggestion. “Yes, Master,” I gasped delightedly.

His own eyes widened, and he smiled. “Never realised how much I liked hearing that,” he sighed.

“So much so, that you could see yourself getting used to it, Master?” I said slyly, raising a suggestive eyebrow.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he chuckled. “I still intend to release you tomorrow morning so we can discuss whether or not we’ll be moving forwards. Even if I’m fairly sure what you’re gonna say...”

I smiled broadly, hoping I wasn’t leaving him with any doubt.

“But for now,” he continued, lowering his hand away from my face, “I think I’d like you to show me your bedroom.”

“Of course, Master,” I purred.

Looking back at him over my shoulder, I led the way to my room, which, I’m slightly ashamed to say, was also in a pretty untidy state. Not that David - or rather, Master - seemed to care. I crawled onto my bed on all fours, waving my butt provocatively at him as my knuckles and knees sank into my dark purple duvet. Turning over, I shuffled up the bed so I was sitting with my back against the headboard, stretching my legs out in front of me and my arms in the air above me.

Then I frowned, confused. Why did I put my arms up? I couldn’t answer that question (nor could I lower them), so it clearly wasn’t my idea. I narrowed my eyes curiously at Master as he approached me. He pulled off his shirt, revealing a muscular, hirsute torso, and climbed onto the bed, straddling my legs. I bit my lip, wondering if he was finally going to fuck me - but he was still wearing his pants!

Instead he reached out with one outstretched finger and gently brushed my armpit. My whole body shook at the sensation, a low giggle bubbling up and escaping my mouth. I stared at him as he raised both hands and wiggled his fingers in mid-air, gradually moving them closer towards me.

“Oh no,” I half-laughed, half-screamed, “no, please don’t, no no no, I’m so ticklish, this is bad, I’m begging you, you should know I actually do want you to tickle me and I’m just putting up a fight, oh God no don’t -”

His fingers dove into my sides, and I shrieked and wriggled desperately, unable to move with his weight on me, unable to lower my arms with his will holding them in place. He kept up the assault of tickles across my torso, my boobs, my armpits, my neck and my face, making me laugh and writhe, squeal and sob.

Until suddenly, the tickling sensation faded away, leaving me to gasp for breath and blink the tears from my eyes. Disoriented as I was, it took me a few seconds to realise that Master’s hands were still dancing across my body with as much vigour as before - but with no effect.

“What the - that’s not - why is that not working? Why doesn’t it tickle?” I spluttered, astounded.

He grinned. “Just like I can control your thoughts and your actions, I can control your sensations. I can switch off your ticklishness. And then, just as easily, I can...”

“Oh fuck, no!” I screamed, bawling with laughter as the tickling feelings returned - only twice as strong. I shook violently, my ramrod-straight arms waving in mid-air, my boobs swinging from side to side, my toes flexing rapidly.

“... bring it back,” David concluded, chuckling. I barely heard him.

Finally, after what seemed like days, he showed mercy, halting the tickling offensive and allowing my arms to drop to my side. Bleary-eyed and loose-limbed, I felt like I’d melted into a puddle.

“You’re so mean, Master,” I mumbled. “I love it.”

Master cackled, clambering off me and perching on the edge of the bed. He pulled down his pants, revealing his big, hard cock once again as I watched admiringly, licking my lips. I shuffled forwards so I was no longer up against the headboard and leaned back, spreading my legs as wide as they would go. He stood up and moved to the end of the bed, and grabbed my thighs tightly in his hands, pulling me even further forward. I cried out in ecstasy and clutched my tits as I felt him impale me, and he began to urgently thrust inside me, causing me to let out moan after moan as surges of arousal fired through me.

I soon reached the brink of orgasm - and that was where I stayed for some time. Right on the edge, a whisper away from release, as I felt my Master’s wood drill into me... When I realised what was happening - that he was stopping me from coming, denying me the release with the power of his mind - it only served to drive me even closer. My legs trembled in his grip. My left hand grasped my duvet. My right hand gripped my boob like a vice. I wept with frustration, my tears running down the sides of my face and onto my pillow, feeling so controlled and powerless, so desperate to cum... hoping he would keep me from doing it for just a little bit longer.

After an eternity I felt him withdraw, and he stepped back from the bed. I whined and thumped the bed beneath me with balled fists, distraught at not getting to let out the overwhelming buildup of sexual energy inside me, the denial making me even hornier (which I hadn’t thought possible until that moment). I grabbed my boobs again, in the vain hope that they’d trigger some kind of release mechanism!

Then I looked up at David and saw that he was still, somehow, fully erect. He hadn’t cum either. And it all suddenly became clear to me - I couldn’t cum until he had. Of course. It was only right that my Master got that precious release first, before I - the slave, the property, the object - got to enjoy it. At the same moment I realised that there was still something else we hadn’t done yet - he’d fucked my pussy, and my face, but there was one hole he hadn’t introduced to his glorious shaft yet. (Unless you counted the earlier dry-hump.)

Turning over, I propped myself up on hands and knees on my bed, presenting my posterior to Master. No sooner had I done so than I felt him enter me, causing me to grunt in a very ladylike fashion! As he began to vigorously fuck me from behind, he reached out and grabbed my hair, pulling it hard, making me cry out in pain and pleasure. I started to let out short, sharp grunts in time with his thrusting, still on the brink, unable to go over the edge until...

“Ah!” he gasped, and I felt the cool squirt of his cum in my ass.

“Oooohhh, fu-uck!” I bellowed as all the pent-up arousal inside me erupted out at once. Spent and exhausted, I sank down onto the duvet as he pulled out, not caring about the product of my violent squirt coating the duvet beneath me.

David reached out and stroked my hair, sending pleasant tingles rippling through my body and brain. “Good girl,” he said. “You’re such a good slave. You’ve done such a good job tonight.” I smiled in pure joy at the praise as I gazed wearily up at him, my eyelids drooping.

“You can rest now,” he told me, still stroking me. “Your work is done - for the time being.”

“Yes, Master,” I whispered with the last of my strength, and fell into dark oblivion.

***

I woke to find myself looking at David’s sleeping face. I was tucked under my duvet, so presumably after I’d fallen asleep he’d pulled it out from under me and then covered me with it. I closed my eyes again, mentally reliving all of the previous night’s glorious activities. I’d have struggled to believe they even happened if it weren’t for my various aches and pains - and the presence of my new Master lying in bed next to me. My jaw, pussy and ass ached from the fucking, and my scalp from when he’d pulled my hair. I’d never been happier.

I didn’t feel his control any more (though as I’m sure I’ve made clear, it’s not always possible to tell). I wondered if it automatically switched off when he went to sleep, or if he’d purposely released me the way he’d said he was going to. Now seemed like a good time to find out.

Debating for a moment about what would be the best way to wake David, I decided to do so in the manner of a good slave. Slipping further under the duvet, I found my way to his cock and started to minister to it with my lips and tongue, slowly but surely making it hard.

It wasn’t long before I felt him shift beneath me and heard him grunt. He threw back the duvet, revealing me with his cock halfway into my mouth.

“Morning,” he chuckled.

I slid my lips off his dick and smiled seductively at him. “Good morning, Master!”

“You don’t have to call me that, you’re not under my control right now,” he pointed out, yawning and stretching. “It wears off when I go to sleep, and besides I was going to release you this morning anyway.” (So that answered that.)

“I know, I just like calling you Master,” I purred. I gestured to his erection, licking my lips. “Do you want me to continue?”

He looked tempted, but shook his head. “That’s enough for now - come up here.”

Scrambling back up the bed, I lay down next to him, and he put his arms around me and drew me into a nice cosy cuddle, stroking my hair gently. “So,” he said quietly, “was last night everything you hoped it’d be?”

“Hell yeah,” I said eagerly. “It was literally a dream come true!” After an apprehensive pause, I asked, “So - what d’you think? Do you wanna... keep me?”

He gazed at me silently for a few seconds, frowning slightly. “Yeah,” he said finally. “I do. I’m just wondering...”

“What?”

“What if you change your mind? I know you want this now, but later today, with a few hours’ distance, you might feel different. Or tomorrow. Or the day after that. Next week, next month, next year... You might wanna be set free, go back to your life.”

I shook my head, which, as it was still resting against him, meant that I rubbed my face against his chest hair in the process. “I won’t. I won’t change my mind.”

“You can’t be sure of that. So, here’s what’s going to happen.” He sat up, forcing me to shift position and sit up too. “I’m gonna go home, and you’re gonna do normal shit for the rest of today. Shower, eat, watch TV, maybe hang out with your friends... And then tonight, if you still want this, come by my place - I’ll give you the address. And we’ll spend the night together. And we’ll keep doing that. Your days are yours. Your nights - they’re mine. And if, at any time, you want to stop, back out of this, you can. I’ll give you the ability to use safe words, even when you’re under my control.” He stared into my eyes, his own eyes burning with intensity. “I want to take you. Claim you. Have you as my slave. It’s perfectly clear that you want that too - it was your idea! But if you ever do change your mind and want out, I will not stand in your way. OK?”

I smiled and nodded. “OK,” I whispered. “Deal. I agree, to all of that. I can’t imagine ever needing that escape hatch... but I’m grateful that you’re giving me that option. It makes me trust you all the more.” I kissed him, slowly and softly, and felt bliss envelop me.

We stayed like that for a good few minutes, nestled together in my bed, making out without urgency, just enjoying being together, peaceful and contented. Finally we broke away from each other, gazing into each other’s eyes once more. Then he gently shifted himself out from underneath both me and the duvet, sliding out of the bed. I lay back and admired his naked body as it got rapidly less naked.

Once he was fully dressed, he leaned down and kissed me one last time. “If I don’t see you tonight, I’ll understand,” he whispered. “But if I do...” He grinned and stroked my neck, and I purred happily. As he strolled out of my room, an address appeared in my mind - his address - which, I realised, was only a few minutes’ walk from my own home. The location was suddenly ingrained in my mind without me ever hearing or reading it, and with no effort to memorise it.

Instant knowledge, I thought. This just gets better and better...

***

I think I’ve made clear how I feel about being mind controlled, so I doubt you’ll be surprised when I tell you that at around 8pm that night, David heard a knock on his apartment door and answered it to find me standing there, wearing a long brown coat, my skimpiest and most revealing lingerie underneath, and an eager smile.

That night was as fun as the first - perhaps even more, as it went on for longer. Amusingly, David admitted he hadn’t eaten dinner yet, and then had me cook a meal for him. My unfamiliarity with his kitchen was a complete non-issue - as soon as I stepped into the room, I knew where to find every ingredient, every appliance, every utensil. Forty minutes later I served up a vegan Thai green curry big enough for both of us (I’d only had a quick bite to eat before leaving home, so I had room for a proper meal). But I found myself unable to start eating until he had taken his first mouthful, and he tricked and teased me several times, lifting his fork to his mouth only to lower it again, making me pout with frustration.

Once we’d both eaten, the real dominance started, as David began experimenting, finding all sorts of things to make me do. He had me tidy his living room, making me crawl around on my hands and knees, trying to balance the items I collected on the small of my back as I moved around the room. He had me pose like a statue in the corner of the room, and I found myself completely frozen, like a mannequin, which he took great delight in moving into new, increasingly degrading positions. He ripped my lingerie off my body, my mild displeasure at the outfit’s destruction far outweighed by my feelings of submission, vulnerability, and utter joy. He made me sit in the corner and masturbate. He sat in the centre of his couch and had me lie across his lap, and then spanked my ass, promising only to do it ten times, but to restart every time I made a sound. We did end up starting from the beginning many times, and the ultimate count must have been close to fifty in the end - but I did eventually manage to suppress my cries and whimpers, with considerable effort.

He had me stand up so he could continue inflicting delicious pain, slapping my face and my pussy and twisting my nipples. He tickle-tortured me again. He produced a black Sharpie and wrote on various parts of my body - ‘slave’ on my chest; ‘pet’, ‘plaything’, ‘puppet’ and ‘sex toy’ on my upper arms (I guess he couldn’t think of a fourth ‘P’ word); ‘controlled’, ‘obedient’, ‘servant’ and ‘object’ on my belly; ‘free use’ just above my pussy; and, apparently, ‘horny slut’ and ‘fuck doll’ above my butt. And of course, he used me for sex, his cock once again invading all of my holes, though this time he came in my mouth.

As the night progressed my vocabulary shrank down to the most servile of phrases: “Yes, Master”; “No, Master”; “Thank you, Master”; and other variations on that theme. Through all the pleasure and the pain, my excitable joy from the beginning of the evening gradually morphed into a blissful mindlessness, as I stopped trying to think about what I was doing or why, and completely gave myself up to his control. My arousal stayed high all night long, sometimes coming right up to the edge, but not reaching a glorious climax until the very end of the night, after he filled my throat with his thick, salty cum. Then he took me into his bed, and we curled up together and went to sleep. And the following morning, after I once again woke him up with my mouth around his cock, he sent me home, to carry on my ordinary life as if nothing had happened.

***

This routine carried out for some time afterwards. Almost every night, I’d find my way to David’s apartment - or he’d come to mine. If the latter was happening, at some point during the day I’d get the sudden sense that I didn’t need to go anywhere that evening. Then I’d find somewhere private to rub myself from the realisation that he was able to control me when we weren’t even in the same building. As he’d already explained, there was no range on his powers - however far away he was, all he had to do was think of me and of what he wanted me to do or think.

Our nights were filled with servitude, spanking, sex, and all sorts of other degrading fun. He froze me some more, and had me behave like various animals - among them cats, dogs, chickens and cows - throwing myself into the performance as whole-heartedly as if I actually were the creatures in question. We even went out in public together on a few occasions, to the grocery store, to bars for some drinks, to restaurants for meals... I was dressed respectably for these excursions, and no onlookers could possibly know what was happening to me. But I was still very much under his control, thinking horny thoughts, whispering dirty talk so that only he could hear, feeling arousal course through me - which was only intensified by the awareness that I was mind-controlled in public, and that out of all the people surrounding us, only my Master and I knew.

And every morning, I was banished back to my normal life - which held less and less appeal for me. I’d say it was getting harder and harder to leave my Master every day, but that’s not quite true - with his will compelling me, it was never hard to do anything! But still, I longed to stay at his side and be his slave. Contrary to his fears that I might one day want to back out of our arrangement, my desire to be with him only grew stronger by the day. And I made that as clear as I could every single time we saw each other.

Two months in, midway through a blowjob, he gasped, “Alright, fine, let’s go full-time. You can be my slave, Cindy, 24-7 - if that’s still what you want.” Fuck yes, that was what I wanted! I’d have cheered if my mouth wasn’t full.

And that wasn’t the only wonderful surprise of that evening. An hour or so later, once we’d reached a natural stopping point for the night (by which time much of the lower half of my body was coated in a spray of cum), he handed me a gift-wrapped box. Inside the box was a chunky black collar. I gave him a look of rapturous joy, stammering thanks as I immediately began fumbling to put it on. That first time I couldn’t get the clasp to work, so he helped me. Since then, I’ve worn my collar whenever possible, only taking it off when he commands me to, or if I’m going to meet people I know, or to shower. It also came with a leash, which we’ve used extensively!

In the weeks that followed, I moved into his apartment - we had a brief debate about who would move in with who, but his place was bigger and also closer to my favourite bar, so it was always the superior choice. Plus, leaving my home behind and moving into his was a landmark moment for me - a symbolic event to commemorate my complete surrender to slavery. (He’s since referred to it as ‘our apartment’, and as his girlfriend so do I, but as a submissive I prefer to think of it as his place.)

Since the move, my life actually hasn’t changed all that much. I spend each day cooking, eating, exercising and watching TV. But at a moment’s notice I’ll be compelled to do something for my Master - if he’s coming home, I find myself rushing to kneel by the front door so he can wipe his feet on my jeans or skirt (whatever I happen to be wearing on my lower half); if he’s in the bathroom washing his hands, I may be called upon so he can dry them on my top, or my hair; and of course at any time he may want to fuck me in any of my holes, or have me service him while he’s doing something, or beat, slap and spank me. For instance, a couple of days ago I was reading a book while he was writing something on his laptop, and the next thing I knew I was tucking in the bookmark and then trotting over and kneeling under his desk, sucking him at a leisurely pace as he kept typing away. And our rule stands - each day, I’m not allowed to orgasm until I’ve made him cum. He’s well practiced at denial, so I have to work very hard. Sometimes he still doesn’t let me, just for the torturous fun, and I have to go to bed incredibly horny and frustrated.

So yeah, on one level, same old life - but on another... fuck me, it’s so much better.

David’s changed too. He’s more relaxed, sociable, even cheerful than he was when we first met. His reservations about using his powers on me have all but vanished, though he still mostly avoids controlling anyone else. I think having me around gives him an outlet, to help him act on his desires and relieve his fear about his abilities. I’m like his sexy stress ball!

It’s not all hardcore all the time, for the record. David cares too much about me to constantly abuse me (though I wouldn’t mind that too much)! After a particularly intense three or four hours, he’ll often devote some time to aftercare - having me lie in his arms while he cuddles and strokes me; running me a nice hot bath to relax in; massaging me... He’s as devoted a Master as I am a slave. He praises me all the time, and makes sure I know how much he values me. In fact, less than two months after I moved in, he told me he loved me. By then I’d said I loved him a bunch of times already, but at that moment all the mind control dominant-submissive stuff fell away and it was just us, a man and a woman in a relationship, honestly professing our heartfelt feelings for one another. It was a wholesome moment.

He then bought me a cage to sleep in on some nights, with a nice cosy pet bed inside for me to lie on, and a padlock to secure the door shut. I fucking love it. And a few days later I got a tattoo on my wrist (my idea, not his) that reads ‘PROPERTY OF MASTER DAVID’ in tiny writing, which turns me on whenever I look at it. I have an Apple watch that covers it nicely while I’m in public.

I still see my friends quite a lot, and I’ve introduced them to David, though it’s been hard to hide the true nature of our relationship from them - I feel like Gabby in particular is getting sus. But if any of them ever stumbled upon the truth, David could compel them to forget about it, or to accept it as nothing unusual or untoward. He doesn’t much like the idea of that, but I’ve persuaded him it’s the best solution.

And talking about him using his powers on other people led my mind down a natural path - trying to find a third person with whom to have sexy fun. Not necessarily another slave for Master (though of course that’d be great, if they were into that) but just someone else to fuck me or him, to add a little extra spice. David was receptive to the idea, particularly when I told him how turned on I was at the idea of him passing me back and forth between him and another man or woman - or him fucking another woman while I’m forced to watch. Mmmmm... So yeah, we’re currently looking for a third. (Of course Gabby would be my ideal choice, but I decided against risking our lifelong friendship for what might be a one-time fuck.) Anyone know someone in Brooklyn who’d be willing?

***

Last night, Master and I were watching television when he suddenly said to me, “My feet are kinda tired.”

I gave him a wry smile. Half a year into our relationship, I know that when he says things like that, he’s about to make me do something. Something that’ll be either highly sexy, or deeply silly. Or both.

It was both. Moments later, I found myself pulling down my sweatpants, exposing my bare pussy and ass (I rarely wear underwear nowadays, especially at home, unless it’s lingerie to entertain my Master). Then I got off the couch and lay down on the floor in front of it, spreading my legs slightly.

He uncrossed his legs and lowered his left foot until it was right over my face. With his heel, he shifted my head so that it was facing as far left as it would go. Then he rested his sole against the side of my face. A second later, I felt him place his other foot just above my pussy, his little toe brushing against the very top of my lips. He started to flex his toes, rubbing them against the skin of my crotch.

I gasped with arousal, trembling at how helpless and horny I felt. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t cry out. All I could do was lie on the carpet, a dead weight, while he used me as a footrest as he continued to watch TV, giving no indication that he was even paying attention to me any more.

He would’ve needed so much encouragement to do something as domineering as this six months ago. It’s taken some work for me to bring out the powerful, commanding Master that I knew was lurking inside him - but not as much as I’d feared... And here we are today, with me trapped powerlessly underfoot, like an object. A perfect slave, controlled by her perfect Master. I’ve found heaven on Earth.

He’s still left me that escape hatch. I can use my safe words whenever I want. I can leave him at any time.

I never, ever will.