painslut

This is my first short story and is partly based on my own life. Giong
away to a permanent slave lifestyle of course is the fantasy. Comments
appreciated, and parts 2,3, and 4 soon.

FROM A FANTASY TO REALITY
IN TEN LONG DAYS

Chapter One

Somehow, something in my mind or childhood developed very
differently from that which might be considered normal in the minds of
most people. From an early age I’ve always had an extraordinary interest
in anything to do with torture. Mind you, this has always been an interest
in researching the different forms used throughout time, going back many
centuries, as well as reading about modern times. But unlike most
researchers, my mind focused on the physical and psychological effects on
the recipient of said torture. I’ve never felt any desire to hurt another
person. Never did I consider, or have any interest in hurting pets, or any
other living thing. Just show me a picture of a man, which I am, being
abused by another and my interest was immediately aroused.
Over time, I’ve read many books, watched many a video, and
mentally envisioned too many scenarios to possibly recount here. Videos of
course were best, for the graphic detail. But, I really loved the books
to. The descriptions of what was going on in the mind of both the abuser
and the abused were frequently read and re-read by me.
My earliest recollection started when I was ten or eleven years
old. My parents owned a neighborhood grocery store. When I wasn’t in
school, my parents often dragged me to the store rather than hiring a
sitter, giving me little things to “help” with. Keeping me out of the way
was the real object of this, naturally. When not occupied with some small
task I often stood by the large magazine racks and read most of the
comics. The issues of “Life” and “Look” had great pictures in them in
those days too and drew my attention.
One day an issue of war stories caught my eye. On the cover was
a picture of a soldier with no shirt, his hands tied above his head, and a
bunch of stripes across his back. Red, sore looking stripes that must have
been put there by the person in the foreground yielding a whip. Picking up
the magazine and thumbing through it, there was an article on the
treatment of POW’s and their treatment by the German’s in WWII. I couldn’t
put the article down, and my fantasy began. And to add fuel to the fire,
each months issue seemed to have at least one similar article.
Over the years I got my hands on whatever material I could, but
it was very limited. My first wife was not very open minded and to have
broached the subject probably would have sent me to a psychiatrist or
resulted in a divorce. Looking at different materials during this 25 year
marriage introduced me to the phenomenon of cross-dressing. Being a normal
red blooded male, Playboy and a couple of other magazines made it into our
home. We sometimes shared a look at them. Playboy did a large piece on
cross-dressing. When my wife saw the article, something I made sure she
saw because of my own interest, she ridiculed the practice feeling no real
man would ever do that. They must all be gay. Little did she know her
husband secretly had collected some woman’s clothes and make- up and
dressed up a few times per year. I knew then that broaching the subject
and openly sharing this first fantasy turned reality was not to be shared
with her. There wasn’t a gay bone in my body, just a little femininity
lurking underneath.

Chapter 2

Moving on, after my marriage of 25 years dissolved and I moved
1500 miles from the only state I had ever lived in, I continued living a
very vanilla life, as they say.
I still saw an occasional video or magazine on these subjects but it
remained a fantasy despite my being single and able to pursue any avenue I
desired. It still was nothing more than fantasy, but adding to my dreams
was the new phenomenon of femdom. If not new, it certainly was to me. And
boy did it ever peak my interest. To indulge my fantasies at the hands of
a strong, dominant women seemed like a lifelong prayer was being answered.
This is where my thoughts went, and was the kind of works I tried hardest
to find information on.
Then I met Diana, soon to become my Princess, Diana. We married
less than a year after meeting on a website dedicated to matching up
people of similar likes, personalities and goals in life. There was no
mention of my fantasies in my profile. I hadn’t resolved myself to
attempting to realize those dreams yet. Diana became my life. She was
beautiful, smart and had the same passion for life I did. We shared a love
for the sea, both of us with lifelong boating backgrounds. And she let me
know she was very open-minded when it came to sex and fantasies.
Nervously, I talked of my submissive fantasies and desires to dress as a
female on occasion. I tried to reassure her I had no homosexual desires,
was not bi-sexual, but just liked to express a little femininity on
occasion. She felt dressing up was at least something that many men
indulged in. Some reports have said as many as one in seven have done so
on an occasion or two. The reports also indicate only a small percent of
these men are actually gay.
She was also willing to explore my fantasies of femdom. Over
the next couple of years we purchased and or made numerous items of
restraint and also items used for the infliction of pain. Whips, clamps,
chains and even a cattle prod became just part of the repertoire of items
Diana began using to indulge my fantasies. Though she could not fathom why
any human would wish to be whipped, humiliated or degraded, she was
willing to help me indulge in some fantasies. It was agreed from the start
it would never physically involve anyone but the two of us. We were not
swingers, and neither had any desire to involve anyone else in our love
life. We did go on line and searched out other couples with similar
interests. We did develop a long lasting relationship with another couple
that has a cross-dressing husband. We have had a couple of girls only
nights with them. They are friends and nothing more. We did attempt to
contact
others, especially in the femdom area. Unfortunately, the only ones that
responded wanted a lot more than friendship, so we quickly gave up that
pursuit.
For the next year or two we indulged maybe once every two
months or so in a scene. Diana became more and more proficient with the
whips, tried candle wax on sensitive areas. Her favorite “tool” was the
cattle prod. And it was my least favorite. My main complaint, I think was
she overused it. But what choice, the slave. Grin and bear it. She also
bought a strap-on and took away my virginity during this time. There’s an
experience you can’t describe. Diana marveled at how much pain I endured,
seldom using our “safe word” to get her to slow down. Mostly only when she
went overboard (in my humble opinion) with the cattle prod. Unfortunately,
after a couple of years she developed the feeling that these scenes were
not normal, and weren’t good for the stability of our marriage. They
stopped for about two years, happened again one time and ended forever.
The worst day of my entire life. After six wonderful years I
lost my princess, to a rare form of cancer. I felt like life had lost most
of it’s meaning to me, but after slightly more than a year of mourning, it
was time to make another big change in my life.

Chapter 3

We have arrived at the present day. The change referred to
involves, of course, my deciding to attempt to permanently get in to the
lifestyle Diana had so nicely introduced me to during our years together.
With her, it was a simple case that we were much more important than my
fantasies, so they returned to being just that. On my own for the third
time in my life, I decided that this was the last chance I’d probably ever
have to pursue this dream. My life with Diana, though only six years,
would be tough to replace. I could not have been happier. A little sorer
occasionally would have been nice . But she was a wonderful partner
I’ll never forget.
It was time to start the task of finding someone who wanted to
become my owner. I had read stories of people whom had actually signed
contracts surrendering their lives and control over all they had, even
their right to live to another person or persons. Total and non-
reversible entrance into the dreams of most of my adult life.
I went on-line and set up an account with a dating service than
dealt with only one thing. Alternative lifestyles. Living on the outskirts
of a fairly large city, I only advertised for contacts within a 100 mile
radius, hoping to find someone local. It was only sensible to think that
the first contacts probably wouldn’t result in lifelong commitments, so
why travel too far.
I made a posting reflecting a few of my experiences, my love of
cross-dressing. Eventually seeking a permanent 24/ 7/ 365 arrangement, but
willing to begin in any way convenient for those searching for submissive
men. There were no restrictions on my part as to whether you are woman or
man, or even a couple. Not a person’s race or any other factor would sway
my mind. It was time for me to surrender my existence to someone that
truly wanted control over every aspect of my life. Preferably serving as a
sissy slave, and preferably to a couple, but open to discussing my future
with anyone. For the next two weeks, all I got was responses from men that
obviously wanted me to meet with them, suck their cocks, and then maybe
talk a little. Obviously they had not really read my post and had no clue
as to what my ad was all about. Then I got a response from a person
identifying themselves as Slave Missy.

Chapter 4

Slave Missy informed me in her e-mail that she represented
Mistress Carla, and if I wished a meeting with her, I should first fill
out the enclosed questionnaire. I filled it out, answering a few basic
questions and then some about my experiences and how serious my desire to
permanently become someone’s slave was. I guess I must have done OK with
the answers as the next e-mail directed me to go to a bar in a nearby town
at 8PM the following Tuesday for an in person interview. Don’t be late.
Wear a white baseball cap with a big zero on each side to identify
yourself.
I got there and hour early, sat at the bar and had two glasses
of liquid courage to settle my nerves. And waited for possibly the most
important meetings of my life.
Promptly at 8PM a young, beautiful and impeccably dressed woman
entered the bar, saw me, and motioned for me to join her in a corner
booth.
“I’m Ken, obviously. Would you care for a drink?” “No thank you.
I am Slave Missy and Mistress does not allow
that. I am Mistress’ # one slave and handle this for her.”
I lit a cigarette, asking if she would like one. NO again, as
Mistress has forced me to quit that too. Hey, maybe there will be an
unexpected health benefit to all this, I thought to myself. Yeah, right,
on second thought.
“I see your wearing shorts, good,” was the next thing out of
Missy’s mouth. Please hand me your cigarette. A puzzled look from me, as
she said she couldn’t smoke. In an instant it was under the table and
stubbed out on my leg. I jumped a little and said “oh” loud enough to get
a glance form the bartender, but not much else.
“Just testing” smiled Missy. I wasn’t smiling, just biting my
lip. “Please, we have plenty of time, so tell me all you can regarding
your life as it pertains to this application.”
So, for the next 15 or 20 minutes, Missy was entertained with
the details of every aspect of my early exposure through my life with
Diana, and why I put in the ad she had read. I commented that Missy was
quite attractive and well spoken. She was college educated, and like me
had long had fantasies. When she tragically lost her entire family in a
DUI hit and run, she decided to escape. Similar to my story.
“Well, this interview is pretty much over. Once again you have
passed this stage and have a chance for a face to face meeting with
Mistress Carla. I’ll now explain how that will happen and what you can
expect.”
” You have until Saturday evening to think about this decision.
I will be here at 5PM to pick you up. If you are not here, never contact
us again. There is absolutely no excuse Mistress will accept for wasting
her valuable time. If you do come, I will lead you to my car, blindfold
you, and take you to meet Mistress. Dress casually. And bring a gift as a
token of respect.”
“Would it be possible to arrive dressed up?” I asked Missy.
“No, for two reasons. One is that Mistress enjoys forcing
womanhood on some slaves. You’re desire for it is actually a negative.
Besides, you will have little use for clothes if you come.” answered
Missy.
” On the subject of gifts, I have a cattle prod. Would that
and a dozen roses be appropriate?” I asked.
“Yes on the roses, no on the prod. It must be brand new,
besides Mistress has many similar items. You have five days to think of
something innovative.”
“Now the most important thing I can say to you. Should you
come Saturday night, you will find yourself having a dinner interview. You
and Mistress will enjoy a lavish dinner together. At certain times,
usually between courses, you will be asked to do some things for Mistress,
some painful, some very humiliating. Just before dessert, if you get that
far”, Missy said with a chuckle, “you will be given a final task. If you
complete it you will have passed, meaning two things. First you are now a
Slave to Mistress Carla. Second, you have no longer a choice in the
matter. Once you finish this final task, you have sealed your fate and
would not be allowed to leave under any circumstances. Choose carefully
before completing this final task for that reason. Do you have any other
questions or concerns?
“No, thank you Missy.” I left a $20 bill on the table and
walked her out the door. “See you Saturday” as we headed in different
directions.
” I certainly hope so”, was all Missy said as she walked away.

Chapter 5

Ok. I’ve made it this far, I thought as I walked to my car. But
is that something to be happy about? I had five days to decide whether my
lifelong dream was really what I wanted. Missy had surprised me when she
burnt me with the cigarette. Not wildly surprised mind you. Just what
would happen behind closed doors if she would do that in public. Guess
some of the stories I had read in magazines and on-line were a lot closer
to real than the fantasy world that I had read them from. And then the
fact that it would be up to me to seal my own fate by performing my last
command from Mistress Carla. My mind raced in 100 different directions on
the ride home. This was real. This wasn’t some overnight test. This was
the rest of my life. Possibly 10 or 15 years of torment if I survived that
long.
Of course there were other possibilities. I could stay away and
look for something a little slower to start with. But it had been three
weeks and this was my only contact of any consequence. Without expanding
my search to greater distances, this might just be my only chance. At
least I had five days to decide.
Just in case, I started to get my affairs in order. I gave the
landlady three months rent saying I was going away on business. If she
didn’t here from me in two months, she could sell off my belongings and
keep the proceeds as it meant success on my end and I’d have no need for
any of it. The lease on my car had just one month to go so I brought it to
the dealer and squared that up. If I didn’t “make” it, I’d just lease
another vehicle. And I wrote out a check for the money left in the bank, a
little over 40 thousand dollars. I made it out to Carla, with the last
name blank. It would be a gift to my Mistress, only if I became her slave.
Saturday arrived and I found myself incapable of staying away from my
destiny.

Chapter 6

Once again, the same barstool found me sitting on it an hour
early. This time some liquid courage was definitely needed. Sweat was
attacking parts of my body and an occasional shaking came over me whenever
someone opened the door and came in. A big smile came over Missy’s face
when she saw me. She told me she would be severely punished if she
returned without me for using bad judgment and wasting her time. As we
left, she asked about my car. I explained that most of my personal things
had been disposed of in anticipation of no longer needing them. Now that’s
a positive attitude was Missy’s response with a smile.
As expected, a loose fitting bag was placed over my head to
insure that it wasn’t possible to see anything. Missy said nothing during
a trip estimated to be about an hour and a half. It was pretty hard to
tell when the only sounds were the purring of the motor and the sounds of
other vehicles going by. Probably more than a few people wondered about a
passenger with a bag over his head. If stopped, Missy would surely just
talk of some game we were playing, and of course I’d agree.
Missy was quiet for the remainder of the trip. I didn’t feel it
was appropriate to initiate any conversation, despite all the questions
racing through my head about what lay ahead this evening. Most of the trip
seemed like open road driving so we must have gone a fairly good distance
from the town she picked me up in. Eventually our progress slowed with an
occasional turn here and there. Slowing down to a crawl, the noises next
heard could only be interpreted as a garage door opening and then closing
behind us.
Still saying nothing, Missy helped me out of the car and led me
by the hand into the house, I assumed. Missy instructed me to remove my
clothing, being extra careful not to remove the coverings over my head and
eyes. You will remain blindfolded until Mistress instructed the removal.
Please get down on all fours once you have disrobed. It sounded as if
Missy walked away as I attempted to neatly pile my clothes and shoes after
removing them.
“Very good “, said Missy as she observed my now naked body and
chuckled when she saw the neat pile of clothes commenting “you’ll never
see those again if things go as planned this evening.
Missy began putting a wide belt, I believe around my waste.
Another two belts or maybe they were straps, were put on each upper thigh.
Missy suggested that I steady myself as the next thing I felt would be
uncomfortable and cause some pain. She obviously rubbed oil or something
on my ass and then slowly began inserting what must have been a butt plug
into me. It was uncomfortable, and a bit startling, but Missy complemented
me on taking it without a whimper. Missy explained that all slaves wore
these at all times, unless Mistress had another use for the hole. You’ll
come to realize that whenever Mistress removes it, you will be sorry she
did. And don’t feel too comfortable. Over time you will be worked up to
one similar to mine, which is at least twice as long and has triple the
circumference of yours.
Missy helped me to my feet. The pressure was uncomfortable but
not painful. With each step, you sure new something was there though.
Don’t say a word unless told to or asked a direct question. Always address
Mistress as Mistress Carla, no other way. You may call me Missy, only when
Mistress is not around. Use slave Missy in her presence.
“I am about to lead you into the dining room and sit you down
at the table. As I have told you, you will share an exquisite meal with
Mistress. It will be, shall we say, your last supper, as a free man.”
After seating me on a cold hard chair, which of course accentuated
the feeling in my ass, it felt like Missy moved just a couple of feet to
my side. There wasn’t much point in complaining about the discomfort from
the plug. Not too much chance anyone cared, considering the reasons for
being here.
Not long, and I could sense that a few people had entered the
room. It seemed at least one person was very close to my left side, Missy
being to my right.
Stand slave and I did quickly. Slowly turn yourself around so
I may have a good look at you. Missy, you have done as instructed and
properly prepared the potential slave. Please remove his blindfold.
Out of respect, I kept my eyes lowered, trying to adjust to the
first light I had seen in nearly two hours. Look up slave. Before me stood
an exceptionally beautiful, black, muscular woman standing at least 6′
tall, with long black hair, at least shoulder length. She was wearing a
black leather evening gown, leather boots and red gloves that went beyond
her elbows. A deep vee in the dress revealed a gorgeous set of tits any
man would have loved to get lost between. Her make-up, though applied
rather heavily, was perfect.
Hopefully I hadn’t stared, and was brought back to reality
with the question: What is your name? Ken, I replied. Mistress nodded
towards Missy and I was slapped. Wrong answer. Your name is slave until I
say differently. “Yes mistress, I’m sorry.” This time Mistress herself
slapped me, so hard I nearly fell over. “Did not Missy instruct you before
you entered this room. Were you not instructed to always refer to me as
Mistress Carla, not just Mistress. Besides, you were not given permission
to speak. Are you unable to follow simple instructions, or did Missy not
inform you of the rules? Speak slave.
Missy is not at fault, Mistress Carla. I was fully informed. I
have no excuse other than being nervous, never having been in this type of
situation before.
Fair enough for now. At least you were honest and didn’t
attempt to blame someone else for your errors. Missy, help slave back into
his chair.
Another slave, I assume, brought my gifts over to Mistress as
she sat down across the table from me. She took the dozen roses and asked
me why they were yellow. I explained that roses came in many colors. Red
for example represented love. Yellow is said to represent respect. Very
nice touch responded Mistress as she set them aside and opened the other
gift. It was not self explanatory and Mistress asked me to describe what
she was holding.
” It’s called a pencil torch Mistress Carla. A small version of
a propane torch. If you, and please be careful, hold it like a pencil and
press the red button, it will produce a flame. The other canisters are
just refills. It will give you fingertip control of a device I’m sure
should give you much pleasure, and your slaves much anguish. She turned it
on, and I continued, it’s hot enough to melt some metals. Very interesting
slave. If you pass your initiation this evening, we’ll have to try your
gift out on you first.
Hopefully Mistress didn’t notice the pronounced gulp in my
throat as I asked for permission to speak further. Go on slave. “If I pass
your tests, there is a third gift. I have liquidated my assets in
preparation for tonight. In my pants pocket is a check for slightly more
than 40 thousand dollars awaiting my signing it over to you.”
VERY nice slave. Let us commence with dinner. First thing, we
have a formality for all applicants we need to dispense with. You have met
slave Missy. She then introduced me to slaves Candy, Patti and Sandi. Each
slave is going to come over and give you a very passionate welcoming kiss.
Without touching any of them you are to respond as if this was a woman
you deeply loved. In turn, each of the girls came over, gave me a loving
look, and kissed me as I had seldom been kissed. Extensive tongue action
and frequent nibbling of my lips. Needless to say, it was more pleasurable
than anything I might have expected this evening.
“That’s enough” said Mistress, and with the exception of Missy
they returned to their respective places.