"Soon you will be boarding a plane to come to your man, your real man, your owner, your Master."

It felt so surreal to travel to be with my Master, with the most freedom I have ever had to serve him, for over three weeks. It felt like a gift. I thought I would be nervous to see him, I wasn’t. I arrived not knowing how things would be between us. The months prior to my trip Master had felt more distant from me. His life had changed. I wasn’t sure how I fitted in to his life anymore, now that he had a girlfriend. I didn’t know if he wanted to keep his little servant. I desperately needed to serve him as much as possible.

He makes me kneel and tells me the rules I must obey, how I must behave. I am to always greet him at the door. If I am kneeling before him I am to keep my eyes down, unless he tells me otherwise. When we are with his submissive, I am to call him Master and openly show my submission. I am to be respectful at all times. I am grateful for the rules, I need them, it makes it easier to serve my Master and know that he is pleased.

“You will mark yourself, for your Master.”

For almost the entire time I was there I was marked as my Master’s property. ‘Property of Superior Master’ was inked on my skin, the words covering my chest. It felt amazing to be allowed to present myself that way for my Master. I liked that he could see his name on my body. His property. It always makes me feel beautiful to have my owner’s name marked on me. I enjoyed the daily ritual of it. My day only began once my Master’s mark was in place.


The three weeks were definitely an emotional roller-coaster. It felt so right to be there serving my Master, I knew that that was what I need to be doing. I was just struggling to understand how my Master felt. Did he feel the same way? Is this what he wanted? Was I what he wanted?

He was incredibly busy and exhausted from working. I understand now, but I hadn’t experienced that with my Master before. I hadn’t lived alongside him while he works. I understand him better now. I can see how much energy it takes to do what he does. I understand he needs time to himself, to relax, to get his energy back. Master tells me he wants me to be stronger. I know I have to be.

If I was feeling fragile my Master could instantly fix me, with a look, with a few words, with a touch of his hand on my neck, a bite, a spank on my ass. I tell him that he is like a drug to me. I need my regular dose of him. I worry about telling him that, how he will react to me using those words. Because it doesn’t sound healthy. But it was the best way I could describe how I was feeling. I didn’t want to feel that needy. But being away from all my usual comforts and routines, I didn’t have my usual coping mechanisms. I didn’t make plans, because I felt like I should be available to my Master. I could hear him in his apartment. To be so close to him, and not be with him was challenging. When he didn’t want to spend time with me I felt lonely. That is my own fault. I didn’t understand why he didn’t want to use his little servant. It felt like time was slipping away. Then we talked, he understands how I am feeling. Master decides to spend more time between the two apartments, he takes a set of keys, and from that night he spends more time working in my apartment and being near me.

It makes me happy to make Master lunch, to bring him cups of tea, to iron his shirts. I am frustrated that I can't speak the local language, and not having a well set up kitchen, means I can’t do more to serve him. I am incredibly grateful when he visits for meals and cups of tea, because it gives me the opportunity to serve my Master more. That’s what I need to do. It feels so right to serve him in that way. We get to spend time together as Master and servant. Talking, or just being in each others company. It is a rare experience for the two of us. I am grateful for every minute.

There are times when my Master opens up and tells me what is happening in his life, with his health, and with his relationship. I am grateful for those conversations. I need him to trust his little servant, and be able to share what is going on in his life, the good and the bad, so that I can serve him better. Because if I know, then I can understand, and I can support and care for my strong Master.

Master asks if I know that he cares about me. I shake my head. At the time it felt like he didn’t. We sit on the couch together. It should feel nice, to curl up next to my Master on the couch, to have his arm around me. But it has never felt comfortable. I have never been able to feel relaxed when we sit like that. “You’re not comfortable are you? Go to your place.”  I move so that I am kneeling on the floor in front of my Master, he lets me rest my head on his lap. He strokes my hair and holds me close to him, holding my neck. Finally this little servant is calm, truly calm. I breathe deeply and feel my entire body relax. I feel like I am melting. I have never, ever, felt that way before. There is always tension, I am always holding myself, checking myself. It was at that moment, with my Master realising and acknowledging what I needed, that I felt really cared for. I am so grateful that he discovered that for me.

If Master had time, it became something he would allow me do after lunch, before class started. It felt like a way to connect before spending hours working alongside a big group of people. I often went to class with marks all over one side of my face, creases from Master’s trousers. One day someone noticed them, and it made me smile that they had no idea how I actually got them.

My knees become bruised, I have marks on my ass, and a big bruise on my breast (that is still there now, a visual reminder of my trip). My cup of tea didn’t notice it for days, when he finally asks, “What’s that?!” I keep my face blank as I lie to him, saying someone bumped into me. The truth of course is that my Master stood behind me and grabbed my tits, pulling his servant to him and pressing his hard cock into me. Master said he enjoyed looking at the bruises on my knees. I like them too. They are an outward sign of my submission that I can show and no one will know what they mean.


One night Master shows me photos of a beautiful, hot naked girl on his phone, “Messaging with my friends…” It breaks me. I say something in response, I smile, then I get up and leave the terrace. I need to kneel. I need to breathe. I need to remember that he wants me, he wants to keep me. It doesn’t matter to him that I do not look like the girl in the photos. I pull my dress down and stare at Master’s mark on my chest and try to be stronger for him. He wants that. I know why. After a while I get dressed, and return to the terrace. Not completely recovered, but stronger than I was.

Master doesn’t want to constantly reassure his little servant. If I question that he wants me, it is questioning his judgement. I really do understand that now. I know I am not perfect, I will have moments of being fragile in the future. But I feel like I have more experience and knowledge, after my time with Master, and I will be able to recover better. I will be better for my Master.


I feel like a very lucky little servant when my Master wants to use my body. I love dressing as his slut for him, especially with his mark across my chest. I wear my new suspender harness and the chains and I feel completely sexy and beautiful. I wear the latex skirt, Master makes me kneel on the bed and he spanks my latex covered ass. I finally get to wear my corset for Master, that night once he has finished using me, he allows me to have an orgasm. I kneel on my bed and stare at myself in the mirror touching my wet pussy, as commanded. I am fascinated by how I appear. That is me, my Master’s horny little slut of a servant. I feel hot and beautiful. And his orgasm is powerful.

Master says he is going to get a collar and a leash for his little servant. I smile. I know how that will make me feel. To be collared for my Master, to have him pull me to him with a chain. My god, the thought of that makes me so incredibly horny.

I’m on my back on the bed, and Master is fucking me, “Open your mouth.”  I do as I’m told and he drips saliva into my mouth. It is such a turn on. It is the same feeling when he slaps me, my body reacts like he has touched my pussy. It is intense and I feel so connected with my Master. I know I am completely his. To use as he pleases. That is what he wants, that is what I need.

“What am I going to do now?”
“You’re going to fuck your servant’s ass, Master?”
“You have no right to complain, do you understand that?”
My Master’s cock is thick and as he presses into my tight ass the pain is intense. I groan and I’m whimpering. “Master, please…” I know I’m making too much noise. I press my face into his pillow and try to breathe as he commands me. I know every part of me belongs to my Master. He wants to fuck my ass, I know he is not going to stop, I really need to open for my Master. I know the pain will stop. Finally it does. The intensity makes me incredibly horny, to be used in that way, I’m so wet. “Oh my god.” Master hears me and reaches for my clit, I love feeling how wet I am on his fingers, and how much his thick cock is filling my ass.

“You are the best, Master”
“You are my Real Man”
“What about your cup of tea?”
“he is nothing.”
“Say it.”
“he is nothing. he is nothing. he is nothing.”

I’ve always noticed that my body reacts the most strongly when I feel I am being completely used. Restrained, Master’s hands tight around my neck, slapped, spanked, fucked. I know when Master wants me to sit on his cock and please him, that I am also being used. But it feels like I think too much when that happens. I worry that I am not pleasing him enough. I can feel the difference in my body. The funny thing is, the night that Master fucked his submissive and I together, and the last time when he fucked me in his apartment, I didn’t think that way. I didn’t think at all. I was simply serving my Master as he commanded. As I needed to. So maybe this little servant is making progress. I hope so.


I was so sad to leave. I wish I could stay close to my Master. I have to go home. I don’t want our last few hours to be filled with me crying. There are tears of course. But also good moments, with my Master on the couch and me curled up at his feet. He says if he is honest, he is not that happy about me going home to him, my cup of tea. I’m not that happy about it either. But my life is waiting for me. I return home with my Master’s name on my chest, and a better understanding of my Master and how to serve him better.  

I am my Master’s little servant, His good girl, His little bitch, His slut, His sex toy.
I am doing what I need to do.
Master wants to keep this little servant.
I am incredibly grateful.