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Chapter
1
It may be true, like
Time magazine said, that the sexual revolution is over, but if it
is, it's because the women have won, and isn't indicative of a return
to conservative prudery.
A few years ago, I never
would have believed that I would have a boyfriend who would please
me in every way, and do everything that I asked. I could never have
even conceived of being head of a sorority of women dedicated to
being worshipped like goddesses, and being served by males happy
to act as slaves of their own free will.
It all started when
I met Owen shortly after entering a large southern university, which
I won't name. One weekend, I was helping him clean up his apartment.
As I moved a box from under his bed, it slipped out of my hands
and the contents spilled out onto the floor.
What I found was several
dozen magazines. They had pictures of women in latex wear and leather
corsettes and high heeled boots, with men grovelling at their feet,
or being ridden like horses, or tied up.
I was shocked but pretended
to be angry, "What is this?" I asked him.
His face flushed and
red, and he stammered, "I ... I like the idea about being dominated
sexually. I'm not sick or anything, I just need to relinquish all
control. I need to worship a woman and please her ... all I want
is to be allowed to come while she dominates me."
I was confused, but
I took the entire contents of the box. As I left, I told him, "I
didn't know if I ever want to see you again. I don't know if I can
deal with this. I have to think this over. Don't call me, I'll call
you."
After a few days, I
worked up the courage to discuss the incident with my room mate,
Chantal. I showed her the box and explained my conversation with
Owen.
Chantel was excited
about it, and told me to think of all the advantages of being served,
and waited on and pampered. She quickly had me convinced that if
he really wanted to serve us, and not just to be ordered to do things
to please himself, that we should take advantage of the situation.
After reading through
the magazines, we wrote up a slave contract, and I invited Owen
over for dinner, not saying anything about it.
All evening, since he
came in the door, Owen was nervous, and I knew he wanted to talk
to me, but was too embarrassed to say anything in front of Chantal.
After dinner, when the three of us were sitting at the table, I
said to Owen, "Do you remember the last time you saw me?"
He looked down at the
table and said "Yes."
"Did you mean those
things you said?"
He nodded his head,
and was about to say something else until I told him to be quiet.
Chantal suddenly brought
out the box from its hiding place and dumped the contents onto the
table. He was so embarassed that he was actually shaking.
I then handed him the
slave contract. "Stand up and read this out loud."
He took one look at
it and opened his mouth to protest.
Chantal said, "Go ahead,
do it!"
Owen looked at me, and
I just crossed my arms and stared him in the eye. He got up and
read.
"The undersigned party,
hereafter referred to as 'the slave', surrenders to the second party,
hereafter referred to as 'the Mistress', total control and ownership
of his body, and to the utmost of his ability, the submission of
his mind. The term of this agreement is to be indefinite, subject
to cancellation by the Mistress at any time, without notice, for
any reason.
Some of the initial
conditions to be imposed upon the slave, subject to change and additions
at the whim of the Mistress, are as follows.
The slave is not to
address the Mistress as anything other than 'Mistress,' at any time.
At all times in private,
or at any other time at the request of the Mistress, the following
rules apply.
The slave is not to
speak unless given permission. If absolutely necessary, the slave
may request permission to speak by kissing the feet or ass of the
Mistress.
The slave is to wear
no clothing without special permission, except for feminine undergarments
approved by the Mistress.
Whenever the slave is
not engaged in an assigned chore, he is to wait patiently next to
the Mistress.
As the slave's body
is property of his Mistress, he is not to touch himself for his
own pleasure. Orgasm is forbidden except on command.
The slave will inform
the Mistress immediately whenever her slave's penis becomes erect,
or goes limp.
The slave is to address
Chantal as 'superior one' and to obey all orders from her so long
as they do not conflict with the express commands of the Mistress.
The slave will accept
with gratitude any punishment meted out by the Mistress for disobedience,
or for no reason at all."
When he got to the end,
I informed Owen how to seal the contract. "If you don't feel capable
of fulfilling the contract, you may leave and never see me again;
if you wish to accept, strip naked and sign it with your sperm by
masturbating onto the bottom of the paper."
It took him only a second
to decide, and he stammered a quiet "OK".
"OK, WHAT?", demanded
Chantel.
"OK. Mistress", he replied.
He undid his belt, and
dropped his pants. With a final fleeting glance at me and Chantel,
he pulled down his underwear, and out popped his engorged cock.
As he wrapped his fist
around it, I reminded him of one of the terms of the contract, "You
don't get off that easy. Take off all your clothes."
As he continued to strip
Chantel dissappeared into her room as I took custody of his clothing.
By the time he was totally naked, Chantel returned with her video
camera.
Owen would have objected,
but he had nowhere to go since he had no way of getting his clothing
back.
I spread the contract
out on the table, and Owen stepped up to it. He put his fist once
again around his throbbing prick jerked himself off, right there
at the dinner table in front of me as Chantel caught every stroke
on tape. It wasn't long before he came in uncontrolled spurts, spraying
all over the paper. I held out my hand and he gave me the "signed"
contract for filing.
Chantal commented on
how fast his cock got small and shrivelled afterwards, and ordered
him to look at her. Owen couldn't meet her eyes, and he turned red
all over from embarassement at being naked in front of both of us,
and from the humiliation of his submission, but he got hard again
almost immediately. I had to remind him of his duty to inform me
of his erection, which he did, and then I told him to clear the
table and sent him off to do the dishes while Chantal and I relaxed
and watched the tape on the television.
When Owen was finished
with the dishes, he came over and stood next to me silently and
obediently. I could catch, out of the corner of my eye, his still
erect penis. The bliss I felt right then, at having him waiting
at my beck and call, assured me that I had made the right choice
in my decision to give him the domination that he craved.
I realized, of course,
that to keep him as a slave to me, I would have to keep him happy.
That first evening, I gave him permission to talk, and we discussed
his fantasies and needs. Chantel and I went through the magazines
and asked him to explain what excited him most.
He was made to realize,
though, that my pleasure would come first, and that under the contract
he had signed, he had no right to recieve pleasure except when it
pleased me to grant it as a special treat. As token of this realization,
I made him kneel before me and start masturbating. Once I could
see that he was getting hot, I ordered him to stop before he came.
I ran him through his paces two more times before I was done with
him.
That night, we made
Owen give us each a long massage, and I let Chantal take him to
her bedroom to please her orally, before having him lick me to several
orgasms and allowing him to lie at the foot of my bed above the
covers. Of course he had a throbbing erection, and I doubt if he
slept at all. When I woke up in the morning, he was awake and looking
at me. I could see the caked pre-come on his cock (he had been "leaking"
all night), and his penis looked bigger than I had ever seen it
before. I had him kiss and lick me all over, and finish up by performing
cunnilingus until I had an explosive climax, then told him to go
fix breakfast.
At breakfast, Owen served
us and stood by while we ate. Chantal remarked how nice it was to
be waited on by a naked male, and complimented me on my slave.
When I told Owen he
could get dressed and go home until I requested his presence again,
he requested permission to speak by prostrating himself before me
and kissing my feet, which I granted him.
"Please Mistress, may
I make love to you?" I told him to roll over on his back, and saw
that he still had a raging hard on. "You mean you would like some
release for your poor aching cock, is that it?"
"Yes Mistress. Please."
Chantal laughed and
said, "You know you really should punish him for thinking that his
blue balls are excuse enough for begging permission to speak."
I agreed with her, and
instead of an orgasm, Owen got a spanking before we sent him home.
I had him bend over a chair, and Chantal and I took turns swatting
his bum with a hairbrush until it turned bright red, and he was
sobbing. Then he had to go home without his briefs, wearing under
his jeans instead, lace panties that were too small to cover his
cock, which was still embarassingly erect.
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