My role is to be a devoted and obedient servant to my strict, demanding and intense Master.
My position is on my knees, ready for my Master’s command.

I never thought I would write words like those about myself. The life of a submissive servant was never one I desired. I had never considered it. Sure, I had got super horny reading the Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy along with millions of other women around the world. But that hadn’t made me curious about why it turned me on. I didn’t suddenly want to be tied up and spanked. One day my husband, in an attempt to spice up our sex life, handcuffed me naked to the stair banister, I burst into tears. It made me feel so vulnerable and ashamed.

I’ve always been self-conscious about sex, I’ve never really given myself permission to enjoy it. If I have managed to let myself go, afterwards I have always felt ashamed and embarrassed. Interestingly, that hasn’t been the case with my Master. After he’s fucked me, or if he gives me permission to touch myself and have an orgasm, I don’t feel ashamed.

I just feel happy.

Perhaps it is because I am not the one in control. It’s not about me. I am simply doing what he commands me to do, and if it pleases him, then I feel happy to have pleased him. I don’t feel judged.  

Now that I am Master’s little servant, I feel like a different person. Master often commands me to tell him what I have learnt so far, how do I feel now that I am his servant? I tell him that I feel like I finally know who I am, I feel more comfortable within myself, I walk around with my head held higher because of that. I wouldn’t want him to think that suddenly I am strolling around town feeling superior to others because I am special and have a Master now. It’s not like that. I just have a quiet understanding of who I am, what I am.

I know he is taking over more and more control of me, my mind, my body, my actions. I can look back over the last few months and see how my mind has changed. Master is never far from my thoughts. He is the first thing I think about when I wake in the morning. We are in different time zones, I message him every day to let him know that his servant is awake. It always makes me smile to see his “good morning baby” reply. When he writes “good girl”, the happiness I feel is like a quiet glow that fills me.

I’m grateful when he takes the time to message me. Mostly I feel small and insignificant, I don’t want to be a burden to my Master. But I need his control and his guidance. I appreciate that taking me on as his servant involves a lot of responsibility, and time. The fact that I was completely ignorant to the dominant / submissive dynamic and how that works means that my Master has to teach me everything. I didn’t come to him as a trained submissive who just needed to adjust to please this particular Master. I had no idea about anything. I just had a huge desire to learn.


At the start, I think I thought it would be easy to keep my role as a servant to Master separate from my normal life and my marriage. Two different relationships, two very different men with different needs. We don’t even live in the same country. Simple. I was so wrong. I didn’t expect myself to change, didn’t expect what I need to change. Now I get frustrated with my cup of tea. I feel like I need a stronger man. I still love him, and it hurts to see him lose his confidence with me, and know that that is my fault. But I can’t switch off my desire to be controlled and possessed. Only my Master deserves my obedience and submission. Not my cup of tea.

There is an intensity about my Master that I have never experienced before. When other men have kissed me, it’s just felt like they are horny and want sex. When my Master kisses me, I feel like he is demanding, consuming me. Not just physically, but mentally. I can feel my body react to my Master’s strong energy.

My personality is one that likes to please people. I try hard to keep everyone happy. That is a natural part of me. When it comes to pleasing my Master, it is on a much higher level of need. His displeasure makes me feel like my world is going to fall apart around me. I feel deflated and desperate to fix my error. There have been a lot of errors and missteps along the way. The learning process has been difficult at times. Not because of his teaching, but because of my ignorance. I don’t know what I don’t know. Because I didn’t ever desire to be a submissive, I have no idea what I need to do sometimes. Every time I make an error my Master corrects me. That’s how I learn. I understand I need the corrections, but they also make me feel like I am failing him.

At the start I would pause, my mind would question what he had asked, what he had commanded. I might feel uncomfortable about it. I would think about it. No, I don’t want to take a photo of my tits. No, I don’t want to message one of your submissives. I know now not to question my Master. I am to do as commanded immediately, no thinking, just respond, do as I am told. And when I do, my Master is pleased, and I feel happy to have pleased him. I think I am improving, but there is always room to improve.

I thought I would feel guilty about what I am doing. I don’t.

While away on holiday at New Year, Master commands me to touch myself and have an orgasm, I had pleased him. That night I lie in a tiny little double bed, my cup of tea asleep next to me, and I touch my wet pussy until I have a long intense orgasm.

We had friends around for a few drinks one afternoon, Master is checking in with me and asking how my life is going, it turns me on that I am messaging my Master while behaving like a dutiful wife in front of our friends. He commands me to go and touch myself. The instant I read his message I walk to the bathroom, kneel, have my Master’s orgasm, send him a voice message thanking him and telling him I am incredibly grateful and feeling very naughty, then I go back to my friends and my cup of tea.

Doing those things for a man that is not my husband. How is it possible that I don’t feel guilt?
(It’s actually funny to me writing about those two moments and comparing them. They were probably only one or two months apart. But I changed in between them. If the New Year scenario happened now, I wouldn’t wait till the evening when I went to bed, I’d just do it immediately)

It has been a process for me to not feel jealous of the other girls and servants that Master has. I have never been good at sharing. Master has slowly taught me to be happy for all of his pleasure, not just the pleasure that I can give him. It has been an interesting process for me, to see me adjust. I know that there is more that I can learn to be better for my Master, I need to be able to be naughtier for him and celebrate the fact that my Master can fuck scores of beautiful girls. It is a process. I can see my progression. My anxieties and self-confidence issues still pop up often, even though I try hard to keep them away. That is a bigger battle for me than jealousy. 

Having a strict Master to serve effects all aspects of my life. Much more than I was expecting. My mind and body are no longer my own. I belong to Superior Master.

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My Master wants me to face what I am.
My Master wants me to celebrate what I am.

The trip made me very nervous. I was excited to explore what it meant to be submissive. But I wasn’t sure exactly how that would be, whether I would like it. Had Master just put ideas in my head, or am I actually submissive?  In our txt conversations he was teaching me that I had no responsibilities other than to do whatever he told me. I didn’t have to think for myself. I shouldn’t think for myself. My only thought should be to please him. Which sounded wonderful, and surely easy enough. My brain however, is always busy, always anxious, always overthinking.

My anxieties started popping up. Would he like me? Would he want me? Would I look foolish? Would I actually like being submissive to him? Would I disappoint him?

.

My first command from him had been to look beautiful for my Master. So I took lingerie with me. But when we got to the motel after class, he wanted me to undress in front of him. I was embarrassed, because I was just wearing a mismatched bra and knickers. He wanted to see what was his, all of me. I hadn’t been naked in front of a man other than my husband in over ten years. I was well and truly out of my comfort zone. We hadn’t talked about what he wanted from me as his submissive, or my limits. I didn’t know what I was doing.

 

"On your knees."

I had never knelt for anyone before. Yet I knew it was my place. That’s where I belonged. He commanded me to “Suck.” His cock is thick, my mouth is little. I wanted to use my hands, but he would not allow it. I couldn’t get enough of him in my mouth. When he came he didn’t want me to swallow, he came all over my face. He was marking me as his. I liked that. I enjoyed knowing I was his possession.

He called me Bitch, when he fucked me. That was difficult. Being called a bitch felt like he didn’t like me. It felt humiliating. Dominants call their submissive all sorts of names, I know that now. But for my first experience with him, it was very confronting.

At one point, he put his hand around my neck, then slowly squeezed. “Do you feel it? Yes?” It felt like his hand was on my pussy, because I felt it there too with a tightness and throbbing. Not just around my neck. Feeling my body’s reaction to his hand wrapped around my neck made me very curious. I’d never had that done to me before. I stop myself from breathing, or take only a few shallow breaths when I want to orgasm, so I wonder if those feelings are connected. Maybe I can explore that with my Master.
I bruise very easily. I was worried about having marks on my body that I wouldn’t be able to cover up. Marks shaped like his hands. I dreamt later that week about walking around with a hand shaped bruise on my neck.

When we had been messaging each other prior to that weekend, I had been so wet and turned on. I hadn’t felt that horny in years, now it seemed like almost a constant state for me to be wet with a tingling pussy. I was embarrassed and surprised when my body didn’t respond the same way when I was with him in that motel. What was wrong with me? Perhaps I felt too overwhelmed. I just remember thinking surely he wouldn’t want to have me ever again. I’m not interesting. I feel so inexperienced. I’m not good enough to be Master’s submissive.

While we waited for our taxi’s on the last night, he bit me on each of my cheeks. Hard enough to feel pain. Soft enough to feel pleasure. I woke up with little red marks on my cheeks. I smiled to myself, no one would ever guess what they were. He had marked me, I belonged to him.

.

It was only a few days later when I saw him again in my city. Somehow so much had changed in me. I felt different. I felt more sure of myself somehow. I really don’t understand why it was different, why I was different. Maybe I had come to terms with who I am, what I was doing. I wanted him to fuck me, I didn’t feel guilty about it. I knelt for him and asked him to be my Master. I needed to obey him, submit to him. He wanted me to beg. My mind went completely blank and I think I only managed to splutter, “Please, Master”. Wow. Not my finest. It made me feel grateful and happy, when despite my terribly inadequate begging, he accepted to keep me as his submissive. I knew I would have to work incredibly hard to please my strict new Master.

He buckled my wrists into black leather cuffs. Mmm, those cuffs. I loved the feel of them. I knew what they symbolised. I liked what he could do to me when they were linked together behind my back. I was to kneel on the couch with my back curved, my ass in the air, so my Master could see what was his. If I curved my back the other way, he would punish me. He spanked me then. Not to punish me. But because he wanted to, because I was his to do with as he pleased. God it felt good. They were kind of slow precise spanks. I knew that to spank me like that, my Master must have had a lot of experience spanking girls butts. I was incredibly grateful for my experienced Master. My eyes were to remain shut. He would walk away from me, I could feel his energy, could feel him watching me, it was so intense. His thick cock slid into my wet pussy, all of him, all at once. I can still distinctly remember how that felt to be suddenly full. 

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On the Saturday while Master was here, I knew I had six hours all to myself. I wished to serve my Master. But I knew I couldn’t ask that of him. As my Master, he decides when it suits him to have me. When he asked for me to come to him on Sunday I had to refuse, there was no way I could with my cup of tea at home. My Master was angry. I felt crushed to have displeased him.

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I received a message from my Master, I was to come to him, but I was not to speak, did I understand his command, did I have any questions? I didn’t need to question him. I understood completely. No speaking. It felt like he had given me a gift. It felt so freeing. My mind could relax. I could relax. All I had to do was obey my Master with my body and feel every sensation. Amazing. It felt amazing.

Master carried me to the bedroom and bent me over the edge of the bed with my wrists bound behind my back. His cock was pressing into my ass, I was so tense trying to hold myself up against the edge of the bed, my ass was in pain. I needed to please him, I wanted his cock in my ass, but the pain was getting too much. I pleaded with him. He was pressing his body on to me, he took my hand then, spoke to me until I relaxed and my body could take him. He didn’t have to do that. He could have just fucked my ass and made me accept the pain of pleasing my Master. I am very grateful that he chose to adapt for me that afternoon.

That day, I realised the importance of aftercare. It had been an intense afternoon with him, I had felt very vulnerable being in so much pain. I needed to curl up next to him and recover, but time was short, I had to get back home. Walking out of that apartment into the bright afternoon sun was a shock.

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I thought I had my life all figured out. I thought I knew who I was. Now that I have a Master to serve, I realise that is not the case. Master seems to see something in me that I couldn’t. How did he know what I need better than me?

I feel like I have this strange and naughty secret. Sometimes I am desperate to scream it out loud. Sometimes I want desperately to keep the real me hidden.

I feel like I am living two lives at once.

The very beginning is late 2017. You touched your hands to my waist and waited for me to embrace you. I think from that moment, my mind clicked off, but my body and my soul clicked on. Of course, I didn’t know what was happening to me. There are only little snatches of memories from that moment, not much. But I do remember feeling this intense, yet easy, connection and energy between us. It would take me over a year to realise what that feeling actually was.


You returned a year later. On the Friday night a party is hosted in honour of your visit, every time you looked at me, I felt like you could see into me somehow. It was a very odd feeling. I was trying to keep my guard up, knowing that I was married and therefore nothing would ever happen. I told you I had been considering traveling to attend more of your classes. You said something like, “It would be worth it.” And I thought, wow, you’re very sure of yourself. There is no way I can go. That’s too dangerous.

When I left that night I said goodbye to you, and was walking down the stairs. You quietly said my name, and flicked your head. I walked straight back up the stairs and kissed you on the cheek. I had no idea why I walked back up those stairs. I found it quite unsettling afterwards. Now, looking back, I was simply obeying you without thinking.

I knew I should never have agreed to meet you for the drink. I was so nervous and I didn’t know what on earth I was doing. During the entire time I have been with my husband, I have never considered being with another man. Not even the slightest bit interested. With you, in that bar, I was all over the place. I didn’t know what I wanted. I couldn’t understand how I had got myself in that position. But the energy between us felt so strong, when I let it in.

When we left the bar, you walked towards me in the stairwell, and said, “Finally…” and you pushed me against the wall. I wanted you then. I needed you to consume me. I needed to feel your skin against mine. I got in the taxi feeling slightly dazed. I’m not a good liar, people can always read the lie all over my face. I got into bed next to my husband that night, and wondered how on earth I could keep what I had done from him.

Over the next few weeks we kept in touch. You asked me if I usually control or lead in social relationships. It is so interesting to reread that conversation between us. You of course had far more knowledge of what was happening and what was developing. I, on the other hand, was quite clueless. I said to you that if I am forced to lead I shrink back into myself. I get scared. I thought to myself, what a strange thing to say to you, there is no way you would understand. He’ll think I’m weird and strange. You just said, “Yes. I know.”

.

“Do you understand I’m dominating you?”
“Yes, I understand”
“Do you have experience with that?”
“No”
“I don’t mind if I need to teach you”
“I’m intrigued.”