Loading...It wasn’t until after my third divorce that I decided to try and fulfill a fantasy I have had for many years, to be the slave of a beautiful dominant woman. I joined numerous dating websites and scoured the internet for possible ways to find my dominant soul mate.
I had ads going on alt.com, bdsm.com and numerous other sites stating what I was (a submissive male) who wanted to completely serve a beautiful dominant absolutely. I gave an honest description of myself, 45 y/o, 6-3, 230 lbs, and had a picture of myself in all the ads.
For the first month there was no response to any of my ads. Then I started to receive the responses from obviously Professional Dominatrixes, offering me training for a fee, and numerous ones from guys saying I could receive training from them if I sucked their cock. While I couldn’t think of anything more submissive I wasn’t gay and I couldn’t get sexually attracted to a Man. Several more months went by with no female responses, but I was becoming more and more determined to become the “slave” I had fantasized about
After the eighth month of masturbating to fantasies and reinforcing my need to submit, the idea of me being a slave to a Man started to take shape in my head. I reasoned that if I was truly going to be a slave, it would take a Man to make me one, and what difference would it be to a slave anyway. It was during that time that I started to receive the first few emails from Michael C. He responded to my ad in Alt.com me stating he was looking for a complete slave, not a fantasy fulfillment. He said he initially sought out a female slave, but was now considering a male slave as his location brought him few responses from females.
He asked me if I was interested in becoming a fully owned slave or if I was just into this because I liked to jerk off to fantasies of submission. He asked me to write back and give him my impressions of what a slave would do for its owner. His only comment was not to write back unless I was truly interested, as the process would begin then.
In his email he said he lived in a small town in Alaska, so I felt there was no harm in writing him, and it would be good for me to put down on paper what I thought a slave should do for it’s owner. I started with listing all of the things my wife’s had done, including cooking, cleaning, laundry, gardening, providing sex, and then continued with the stuff around the house I would do like repair things, mow the grass, paint, maintain the vehicles, etc. When I was done I sent a fairly extensive list to Michael and waited to see what He said.
Although I checked every night for a response it was not until two weeks had passed that I received the following response,
“Good boy, matthew. The list was a good start. I am glad you understand you will have both female and male responsibilities. If you wish to continue any further send me a copy, front and back of your drivers license, and tell me about your sex life, now and in the past before your wife found some one better, Michael C.”
While that last comment stung a little I realized it was a way for him to be the Superior and me to be shown my place. Although I was nervous about sending him a copy of my driver’s license, I was in my car looking for a local store with a copy machine. I still figured he was so far away it wouldn’t matter. When I got back to my place I started to write out my sexual experiences. I told him how sex with my past wives had been fairly normal, either missionary position or with her on top. Of course I had a few blowjobs in my time, though the longer I was with a woman, the less frequent they became. I told him I had gone down on them too, though usually not that often, or for too long. Only my first wife seemed to enjoy it much. I told him that I sometimes put on a pair of my wife’s panties and a bra and jerked off, but never with their knowledge. ( I figured what the hell, I might as well be truthful). I told him that for the past 8 months or more I have just been checking out porn and playing with myself.
After I sent it off I waited patiently for a reply but it did not come for three weeks. When it finally did come it was short and sweet, “boy, have you ever sucked cock or stuck your tongue up an asshole?, are you wearing panties now? Sir”
I quickly replied No Sir to the first two, and yes to the last, then hit send and waited. This time the response was immediate. Send me a picture of yourself with panties on and a Man’s cock in your mouth within 5 days or this is over. Do it!”
I couldn’t believe how nervous this made me, and how excited. I was going to have to prove to him I would suck cock in order for him to consider me further. I wasn’t sure about how but then tried craigslist with an ad stating I was a submissive male looking to give a blowjob to a clean healthy guy, and needed a picture of me with the cock in my mouth.
I received a few responses but settled on the one saying he was mid 30’s, 7″ cut and thick looking to be serviced by willing mouth. He was in a local hotel so I could go in and get out. He also agreed to take pictures if he could keep one too. I went to the hotel the next night, nervous as hell. I had my panties on beneath my jeans, hoping this younger man wouldn’t be too upset with me for it. When I got to his room he let me in and thankfully did not make a lot of small talk. He just asked if I was ready to suck cock, and I replied Yes Sir. He said get your clothes off and get on your knees.
When I was down to my panties I got to my knees. He asked me what gives with the panties? I got scared but just said I was told to wear them. He didn’t seem to think any more about it as he undressed. When he was naked he walked over to me, brought his cock to my mouth level, and said suck boy. It was the moment of truth, as I slowly opened my mouth and my lips felt the heat of his cock. I didn’t know what to expect, but the head felt spongy and warm and before I knew it his entire flaccid cock was in my mouth. It took me a minute to realize that it was official now, I am now a cocksucker. I started to try to remember what my wife had done for me, swirling my tongue around the head, licking the underside, moving my lips back and forth across the shaft. Within a minute he was hard and very thick. Although my mouth was stretched wide and aching some, it felt so natural all of a sudden to be on my knees with this cock in my mouth.
I even started thinking how my ex-wives would have enjoyed this thick 7″ cock compared to my skinny 5″ dick. The man above me, I didn’t even know his name,
picked up the camera I had brought and suddenly started snapping pictures. When he was done, he put it back on the night stand, then took his hands and put them on the back of my head. He started shoving more of his cock in my mouth and throat, going faster and holding me so I couldn’t get away. I gagged quite a bit and felt dizzy, but before I expected it he started shooting his cum in my mouth. I had never experienced anything like it before, both the humiliation of being used that way, and the thrill of being held captive by his strong hands, and being marked with his sperm. I swallowed most of it before even realizing it.
When he finished he just looked down at me and said clean him off. I started to move to get a towel but he grabbed my shoulder and said, no use your mouth. I was so horny at that point I would have done anything he said. When I finished he said “get dressed, you can go now!” I left in a hurry to get back home so I could download my photos and email one to Michael.
When I got home I stripped down to my panties and quickly downloaded the camera. Without thinking of the consequences I emailed the photos to Michael and then proceeded to jerk off to pictures of myself sucking the craigslist stranger off. Within a minute my little load was dribbling out the end. A few minutes later I realized what I had done, and there was no taking it back. I had sucked a Man’s cock and let him come in my mouth. I was officially a fag.
The next few weeks crawled by as I waited for a response. After three weeks and 3 days I received an email from Michael. “matthew, you can no longer take offense to being called a cocksucker, because that is what you are now, a faggot cocksucker and a sissy boy who wears women’s underwear. It is a good thing I found you so you will no longer be a bother to real Women. If you truly understand your place, the next thing I expect from you is a complete inventory of everything you own, including the value of each item. Start with the most expensive and work your way down. All inclusive:
Did you masturbate after you sucked his cock? Sir”
Although I had just come, the request for an inventory started to get me hard again. I don’t know why as I certainly had no intention of giving him everything I owned. By the weekend my horniness had gotten the better of me and armed with a couple of notepads and pens I started an inventory of my possessions. Starting with the car, listing the value and the VIN #, then on to my camera equipment complete with serial numbers, computer, music, furniture, clothing, kitchen utensils, books and so on down to every last paper clip in the desk draw. It took a full two weeks to complete this assignment. While I was working on it I received an email about every three days with a different question or statement from Sir.
The first said “Slaves do not have body hair. Does it have body hair?”
Although I had obviously been given a few assignments already it was pretty clear to me this was an order, and I was an it, as he no longer used my name. I wrote back that evening after having removed my body hair that “it does not have body hair”.
A few nights later was the next message, ” Slaves squat to pee. Does it squat to pee?”
Taking the hint I answered back “it squats to pee” and made that change as well to please Sir. A few nights later, “Slaves do not use the toilet seat, does it use the toilet seat”, to which I replied “it does not use the toilet seat”, and another change was made. The next night was an email, slaves do not sleep in beds or sit on furniture. Does it sleep in a bed or sit on furniture?”
When I read that one, it finally dawned on me that I was being trained to be this Man’s slave, he was preparing me step by step to serve him. I felt strange, but elated that I found someone who cared enough about me to train me for his use. I wrote back immediately “it does not sleep in a bed or sit on furniture”, and stopped doing so immediately.
Two nights later, Slaves do not masturbate without permission. Does it masturbate without permission. Well now it was getting more personal and difficult, but I wrote back that I had been masturbating frequently but would no longer do so without permission
I finally finished my inventory by Saturday night so I knelt at the computer and transcribed it item for item. When I was done I sent Sir the inventory. After a couple of days I was so horny and I wrote Sir, asking for permission to masturbate, A day later Sir wrote back “No, cocksucker”
The next night was another short email, “Slaves do not touch their genitals, does it touch its genitals”. I wrote back no it does not, and then started to actually not do it. It was an incredibly hard habit to break, even more so than masturbating, as I didn’t realize how often I fondled myself.
I was starting to question my sanity about doing this but the need in me was so great. Michael said in a few of his emails he was not a Sadist and did not intend to harm me to any degree I would not be able to handle. He said that only because he told me that at first He would have to be particularly severe to break me into a total slave. Part of me understood that as I was living in a fantasy world, and if I was to accept it as real it would have to become real.
It was almost two weeks after I sent the inventory, and I was incredibly horny, walking around half the time with a 5″ hard on sticking out. I could hardly wait to see what was next, and then it came. Instructions to purchase a tape measure, then go to the slave register.com, and send Sir each of my measurements as directed in the slave register measurement guide. Starting at my head, neck, chest, below breast, at breast,, midsection, waist, arms in 4 places, wrists, etc. It took me almost a half hour to complete all the measurements. When I was done I sent them to Sir. He replied a few minutes later with a list of items I needed to sell so I could send him 2,000.00 for him to purchase equipment for my training. I started listing the items on EBay or craigslist, and within two weeks I had the money to send him. I emailed Sir with the news, and was given a PO Box in Valdez, Alaska to mail it to.
I asked again if I could masturbate, and received the following reply, “No dogslave cocksucker. You have one more time to ask, hope you choose the right time”
Two days later I received an email from Sir, I had an appointment at an address downtown at 1 pm on Saturday. I was to go and agree to what they said was to be done. I googled the address and found it was a tattoo and piercing parlor. I wrote back Sir, Yes Sir, still thinking I had time to change my mind.
The next night another simple email came “Slaves eat and drink out of bowl’s on the floor. Does it drink out of bowls on the floor. I realized this could be expected of a slave but hadn’t really thought about so many changes by myself. I wrote back that ” it does eat and drink out of bowl’s on the floor”, and proceeded to do just that. I was starting to feel a real need to be in this Man’s presence so that I could be forced to follow His instructions.
On Saturday I went to the tattoo parlor and was greeted by a young female named Nancy. I told her I had an appointment at 1pm, made by a friend. She looked at me kind of funny and said don’t you mean your owner? That took me by surprise, but I quickly answered yes and for some reason instinctively lowered my eyes to the ground She had me fill out some paperwork and sign my consent for two piercings. I did and then was directed to one of the back rooms. Nancy told me to strip from the waist down and wait on the table for the piercer.
I laid there for twenty minutes or more in anticipation of what was to come. I knew there was going to be two piercing’s below the waist but wasn’t quite sure of anything else. A larger but still young Woman, maybe 25, named Niki, came in and asked if I was ready. I said Yes and waited to find out more. Her only comment before walking over to her chair at the end of the table was “it looks like the little fella is going to be out of circulation for a while”. She sat in her chair while I lay back on the table, my feet in a pair of stirrups like a gynelogical exam table. She had me scoot to the end and then swabbed my penis and testicles with an alcohol swab. The first piercing was just below the helmet on the underside of the penis. It hurt like hell when she poked it, and then when the ring was fitted in. It was a small ring, maybe an inch across, made out of silver. The next piercing was through my scrotum at the bottom of my testicles, towards the back, and another ring fitted of equal size.
When Niki finished her work, she cleaned the area she had just pierced, put antiseptic and bandages over the pierced areas, and then explained how I would have to take care of the area to prevent infection. Just as she was about to leave, she suddenly remembered the last part. She pulled a small seal out of her pocket, the plastic numbered kind that were tamper proof. She placed it through the two rings and then snapped it shut. While I was getting dressed Niki was on the phone talking to someone, giving the number that was on the seal. I then realized she was probably talking to him, and I felt weird as I didn’t really know much about him yet, and had certainly not heard his voice yet. I could feel the stirrings of jealousy inside me.
The whole thing happened so fast I hadn’t really figured out the purpose of it until I saw the seal snap shut. I then realized there was no way I could get an erection with the rings tied together, nor would I be able to stand and pee. I was falling under this Man’s spell and control faster and faster everyday. He seemed to have no doubt that I was to become his slave, and he has never even been in my presence.
A few more days passed and another of His emails, “Slaves do not have friends, does it have friends?” Although I had a couple of friends left from my marriage, I had not seen anyone in a few months as I was getting more and more enticed by this Man. I had sent him a list of things I would do, stated what I wouldn’t do, sucked another Man’s cock and now have my penis locked in chastity as per His desire. What the hell, it is now or never. I wrote back “it does not have any friends”.
The first week of having the rings was hell week, taking care of the pierced areas and watching for infection. And having all those attempted erections made any real sleep almost impossible for the first several nights. By the middle of the next week I was used to the rings, but going crazy with the need to have a full erection, even if I wasn’t allowed to do anything with it. I sent an email asking as politely as I could when I might be able to at least have an erection again, as I was going crazy after several months without getting to masturbate.
His answer came a few days later, via a federal express delivery to my home. Inside was a note stating “it is time”. Then there was a six page contract outlining the duties and responsibilities of a slave, and two other legal documents. One was a financial power of attorney and the other was a medical power of attorney. I was directed to return the contract, signed, within 24 hours. I was told to fill out the other two but not to sign them until I was told. I couldn’t believe that I was really going to do this but I signed the contract stating I wanted to be His no limit sex slave, with no rights or possessions.
The contract was extremely extensive on my responsibilities, and very detailed on what I was giving up, which included the right to make decisions, have opinions, refuse an order or command, complain about any treatment no matter “how severe”, and I had also signed saying I did not have the right to ever have sex again. I was incredibly horny reading and rereading the contract. It was as if he had read my mind and hit all the little buttons that stimulated my erotic fantasies. I signed the contract with a shaking hand, but still believing that much of this was fantasy play and somehow not real. I knew logically that it could not hold up in court,
I returned the contract via federal express overnight mail. Two days later I received the following email. “Sell all of your possessions except one pair of pants, one shirt, one coat, 1 pair of socks and 1 pair of panties, and one pair of shoes. Do not sell the camera equipment or the watch, as I want these. When you have 3,000.00 send me a money order to my PO Box. This will cover your vet fees.. Save 1500.00 for your travel to Alaska. Any remaining cash to be exchanged for a cashiers check in my name. If you are eligible for a pension bring the forms required to assign the retirement to someone else. Complete this task within 6 weeks. In four weeks give notice to your employer.
This email got me even more excited, nervous and scared than the contract even. This would make it real, and there would be no turning back. This Man had made me his via the internet without laying a hand on me. I had been ordered to get rid of my stuff and put my self in a position to move to Him. I was past the point of turning back or putting a halt to this so I immediately started listing things for sale via the most appropriate means. The next night I got an email stating “Slaves do not speak without permission, does it speak without permission.?” I answered back quickly “it does not speak without permission”.
After a week I had made 3,000.00 and sent him the money via fed ex for my “vet” bills. I wasn’t sure what that meant but figured it was some reference to being his “dogslave” as he used that term once, and then the whole eating out of bowl’s on the floor like a dog. A few days later another email stating “Slaves are used as toilets. It is a toilet” . No more question marks at the end. I realized this was because I signed the contract. He had no need to question me anymore.
After two more weeks of sales I had enough for my travel and was down to only a few more things I could sell, including my car and computer. Sadly I did not own much else after my third divorce, the ex wives had walked away with the major things like homes and savings and stock portfolios. After another week I gave notice to my employer and planned on finishing up my next two weeks at work. At the end of the day I was given a check and told to vacate the premises. I was now officially unemployed.
I wrote Him that night and told him of the turn of events. I also asked him what I should do with any leftover stuff such as clothes that didn’t sell. I assumed he would tell me to take it to a goodwill or something. His reply that night was simple. Good! No, Human Beings don’t want to touch slave clothes, burn them. Purchase your ticket for 14 days from now. Fly to Anchorage, AK. Get a room under your previous name, matthew williams, at the Capt. Cook Hotel. Check in and call me with your room number. Go directly to your room, leave the door open, wait on your knees. Leave my watch, camera equipment and cashiers check on the desk in the room. My phone number is …..
Do not contact me again until you are calling with the room number. Follow the contract explicitly.
The next few days my stomach was churning. On Saturday I took a ride out to a deserted field on the other side of town and burned all my clothes except for the one outfit I had been allowed to keep. I had purchased my ticket to Seattle, and then from there I was booked on Alaska Airlines to Anchorage. I had my reservation for the hotel, but would not know my room number until check in. I sold my car, computer and just about everything else the following week. With only a few days to go until my flight I became almost sick with fear, and then desire, lust, fear, back and forth for days on end.
When the big day had come I was almost calm as I headed out to the airport for my first flight, with my only luggage being a watch, camera bag, drivers license, passport and my two powers of attorney.
It wasn’t until I was in line about to go through the scanner at the airport that I remembered the two silver rings tying my genitals together. I almost fainted when the alarm went off as I walked through. I was sent back again, with the same result. I was taken over to the side for a personal scanning. When the wand went off again at my genital area the TSA agent asked what could be setting it off. I then quietly told him I had a couple of piercings down there. He told me I would have to have a private screening, and then guided me by my elbow to a room on the side set up for private screening. I could see all kinds of strange looks from other passengers and TSA agents as I was whisked away.
This time the scanning was done again, but when he got to my crotch he just said to lower my pants and underwear so the piercings are visible. As I was doing this I remembered the panties as well and almost died from humiliation as I lowered them. When the TSA agent saw the panties he snickered, but then let out a “holy shit” when he realized the purpose of the piercings. He looked at it for what seemed like forever, but was probably only a few seconds. I was told to get dressed again, and was then escorted back out the door. I was totally humiliated by this, but sadly very excited as well. My little dick was straining at the rings to get hard. Once again, I was on my way though, “free” to travel to Seattle.
When I boarded the Alaska airlines flight in Seattle and sat down, I realized how crazy this was to be doing, but I was so caught up in the fantasy I couldn’t stop myself. I was sweating profusely and actually had to get a paper towel to dry myself off. I even got excited thinking how this may be the last time I ever get to sit in a chair again. I know that most people think I am probably insane to be doing this life altering event, going to be with a Man I never met, and allowing myself to be used as a slave. I know it is crazy, but that is the problem with living your life as a fantasy, if you think about something long enough and support that fantasy in your head enough, it becomes real, at least to me.
Before I knew it the 3 hour flight was over and I was headed in a taxi to the Capt. Cook hotel. Even at this point it was still a fantasy I was playing out, even when I checked in, received my room number, and called Him from the lobby. A machine answered with a deep gruff voice saying to leave a message. I said 341A and hung up. I quickly went to the room, but everything on the desk as directed including his watch, wallet, and ID, noticed that the time was 7:30pm, got on my knees and waited….