Confessions of a Slaver

CONFESSIONS OF A SLAVER: PART 1

 

I am a purveyor of female flesh. It=s really the only work I've ever done.  I learned it from the ground up, on my own, and eventually became a major player in the procurement and training of slaves.  Male and female, though I do prefer the thrill of turning a haughty, college educated, snobby female into a quivering mound of obedient, submissive slave meat willing to do anything for an orgasm.  Breaking males is also rewarding, just not as much fun for me, personally.  Now that I am preparing for what I hope to be a relaxing and enjoyable retirement, I've decided to put my life history into words.  Perhaps others will enjoy my story, and perhaps even learn something from my successes and failures. Paraphrasing the old ADragnet@ series, the story you are  about to read is relatively true.  Only the names have been changed to protect the not‑so‑innocent...which may include a few well‑known politicians, businessmen and news makers.

 

I somehow instinctively knew, even as a child, that my destiny was to hold dominion over women; that I was bred to rule them as much as they were deigned to serve me.  Some of my earliest memories, in fact, involved thoughts of domination. In those early years, accessibility was the main issue, and the female most accessible to me just happened to be my twin sister. 

 

Although my actual sexual use of Carolyn didn't begin until around puberty, some of my earliest recollections involve my power over her.  We were really complete opposites; I had brown hair and eyes; she was a light blonde with bright blue eyes and fair skin. I grew to over six feet tall, but she stopped at five two. I was demanding, but she was quiet and demure.  As long as I can remember, she always deferred to my wishes.  Whether it was deciding what movie to go see on Saturday or what to have for dessert, it was always my choice.  I always got the last of the ice cream, the best piece of fruit, the largest cookie, and the best seat in front of the television.  Whenever I wanted something, she simply complied without argument or hesitation.  No matter what the issue was, she always did whatever I wanted.  In retrospect, if there ever was such a thing as a born dominant or a born submissive, we were defined by those terms.

 

When we were younger, I didn't understand her natural submissiveness, and often used coercion to get my way.  I=d threaten to destroy one of her favorite toys, or that I was going get her into trouble with some outrageous lie if she didn't comply with my wishes.  I never had to actually follow through on any of this, though, as she always acceded to my wishes. The need for intimidation gradually disappeared with time, as my domination over her became a natural condition for us both.  Simply put, it was my place to command, and hers to serve.

 

By the time we entered the third grade, she was completely obedient to me.  At home, she followed me like a puppy, eager to do my bidding.  If I wanted the television channel changed, or a sandwich or drink from the kitchen, she took care of it while I relaxed on the couch.  I never lifted a finger I didn't have to.  Carolyn picked up my dirty clothes, cleaned my room, did my chores around the house.  I never washed a dish, swept a floor or mowed a lawn unless I wanted to. The only task I kept for myself doing my own schoolwork.  Even as early as elementary school, I understood that education was important to success, and in order to learn, I=d need to do my own work.  With Carolyn to do my chores, though, I had more time for study and quickly established myself as an outstanding student.  She, on the other hand, didn't.

 

Up until high school, there was absolutely nothing truly sexual about our relationship.  Sure, I required that she dress as I wanted her to, but I did that only to display my power over her.  Punishment usually consisted of me laying a belt across her ass, or sometimes, making her stand in the corner with her dress pulled up over her head.  She didn't really seem to mind either, though.

 

Ninth grade was the real changing point in our relationship.  Towards the end of the school year, I began exploring her budding body in great detail, tweaking, prodding and poking at all her various folds, nooks and crannies.  What I=d previously thought of as just a puffy slit between her legs was much more complex...a hole, some flaps of skin, a thing she peed out of, and a little nub at the top of the slit.  I discovered how she would shudder if I wiggled my finger inside her; she seemed to like it, so I=d do it from time to time.  Sometimes I=d have her play with herself for me.  I=d tell her to do whatever felt best, and I would watch and learn.  I saw her bring herself to her very first orgasm, splayed out on the kitchen floor.  I=d read about orgasms, had even had my own, but this was the first time I=d seen a girl have one.

 

I wanted her to learn about men, too, so I allowed her to explore my body as well.  This, however, was  only in the manner of my choosing.  I let her look, sometimes touch, but always made sure whatever she did was neither unpleasurable or painful to me.  I let her inspect my cock and balls, to inhale the odor of my ass, to kiss and lick me, but tit‑for‑tat didn't apply in all cases.  For instance, I regularly stuck a finger or thumb up her ass, but would never, ever let her do that to me. 

 

She had a few fine, silky strands of pubic hair, which I thought looked kind of nice, but decided against allowing her to keep.  I somehow knew keeping her hairless would enhance her submissiveness, so I made her lay on the floor with her legs spread, while I pulled them out as they appeared.  It sounded painful, and I suppose it was.  She flinched a lot and even let out a couple of squeals, but she took it without any real complaint.   Later, I=d have her shave daily, and eventually, I=d have it all removed permanently.

 

I wanted to keep her in her place, submissive and subservient to me, and I thought that one way to ensure this was to humiliate her whenever possible.  I began by not allowing her to wear any clothes when we were alone at home.  I don=t know whether it had any effect on her submissiveness, but my plan to humiliate her in this manner was an utter failure.  Nudity became her natural state, and she was often more comfortable naked than clothed.  At times, I even had to remind her to put something on before leaving the house or answering the door.  I know that even today she would still prefer to remain naked than wear even the skimpiest of clothes.

 

The following year was when I really started training and treating her as a slave.  At home, she wasn't allowed to make any decisions of her own.  I would tell her when she could eat, drink, go to the bathroom, speak, stand or sit.  If she wanted to ask permission to speak, she had to indicate that desire by holding her hand in front of her mouth...and this only gave her permission to vocalize a request to speak, which I often did not grant.  A request to pee was made by squatting with her legs open and her hand cupped under her cunt; to ask permission to shit, she assumed the same position and grunted.  I still punished her, only now it was usually with a belt or switch directly on her cunt, or shoving something painfully up her ass.   Everything she did had to be in my presence, whether it was using the toilet, getting dressed for school, or taking a drink of water.  If she felt the need to itch, she had to come to me and get permission.  Other than those acts necessary for her to do at school, every aspect of her life was now being controlled by me.

 

I extended her toilet training, too, having her hold my penis for me while I peed, then licking the head clean after I was done.  Of course, if her aim was off at all and I splattered on the toilet seat (or anywhere else), she was required to clean that up, too. Towards the end of the school year, I also started making her kneel at my feet while I defecated, setting as one of her chores the wiping of my ass afterwards.  Eventually, she became my personal urinal, swallowing my piss as I deposited it in her mouth, but that wouldn't happen for a couple of years yet.

 

With the start of the tenth grade, I denied her the use of undergarments altogether, even at school.  She was allowed to wear nothing but knee‑length or shorter dresses, white ankle socks and shoes.  Anywhere except school she went barefoot, unless shoes were required.  She had only one pair of socks, and I let her hand‑wash them just once a week, on the weekend.  At bedtime, I would stuff the smelly socks into her mouth and tie them in place, then bind her hands behind her back. She slept completely naked, of course.  Sometimes I=d tie her ankles to the bedposts, other times not.  She had neither linen nor pillow on her bed, just a single Army surplus wool blanket, and her bedroom door remained open at all times.  If I=d not let her pee before bed, I=d lay out a rubber sheet under her before laying her down to protect the mattress.  Carolyn knew she was expected to wet the bed early, and spend the entire night laying in the puddle of urine on those nights. She also knew she=d not be bathing in the morning, either.  Oh, the looks she got when she showed up at school smelling like piss was so degrading for her!

 

Now, being a fairly intelligent person, you=re probably asking yourself why our parents weren't noticing all this. The answer is quite simple: We had very little adult supervision.  Our mother left when we were four; Dad owned his own business, and worked very hard to provide for us.  A child of the Great Depression, he valued the dollar more than anyone I ever knew, and to me it seemed like making money was more important to him than spending time with his children.  I understand now that having been raised poor, he wanted better for his children.  Just because he wasn't always there didn't mean he didn't care about us, but based on what I've learned about his own childhood, I think he may just not have known how to relate to children.  After all, he had to quit school in the fifth grade in order to help his family out; his education didn't resume until he entered the Army during World War II.

 

When we were younger, Dad would arrange for someone to be there when we got home from school.  Most of the sitters he hired tended to spend more time watching TV or talking on their boyfriends on the phone than looking after us, though. The average sitter would last a few weeks at most, but that all ended when he came home early one day and found the new one passed out on the floor, a baggie of drugs on the coffee table next to her. I was finally able to convince Dad that we were old enough to take care of ourselves.  He was always there when we got up in the morning anyway, so he could make sure we got off to school, and we had homework that usually took us until dinnertime in the afternoon.  Surprisingly, he agreed, and suddenly I had the opportunity to extend my domination over Carolyn to nearly full‑time.

 

We both received small allowances each month; Carolyn always turned hers over to me, and I never spent a penny of it.  Now, though, it was time for her to start buying things.  Each month, I=d give her a shopping list of items I expected her to purchase.  First on the list was her new after‑school outfit:  a pink dog collar, a matching leash, and a pair or cheap plastic 6" costume heels I=d seen at the dollar store.  The following month, it was a supply of makeup and a tag for her collar, which ASlave Carolyn@ on one side, and AProperty of@ followed by my name on the other.  She couldn't wear makeup at school yet – it was against the school dress code - but I had her practice every day at home.  I=d have her slather lipstick and eye shadow on her face until she looked like a street corner whore, then make her clean it off and start all over again.  I took pages out of men=s magazines, and had her practice looking like the centerfold sluts.

 

This was also when I started using her sexually, as well.  I found a book on oral sex in the bargain bin at a thrift store; it had apparently been place there by mistake.  It didn't really contain all that much detail, but the photos were invaluable to me.  I poured over it, made Carolyn study it, then tried out the techniques.  It took her some time, but she was eventually able to take my entire cock mouth.  I usually fucked her mouth three times a day ‑ one in the morning, one after school, and another at bedtime.  At first I let Carolyn have an orgasm for each of mine, but quickly discovered that she=d be more eager to please me if I let her go without for a few days.  So I started rationing her orgasms and limiting her to just a couple a week.  Sometimes, though, if I wasn't particularly pleased with her, I=d make her go without for a longer period of time.  Since she had little to no privacy from me, restricting her ability to cum wasn't all that hard.  After three or four days, she was usually even more compliant than normal, and after a week, would offer to do the most outrageous things just for the privilege of a single orgasm.  Sometimes I took her up on her offer ‑ once time she French kissed the neighbor=s dog ‑ but even then, I seldom gave her the release she so desperately needed.

 

Because she would be required to dress out for gym class each day, it would be necessary for her to wear undergarments.  The day before school began, I took her to the scrungiest second‑hand store in town and picked out a pair of threadbare cotton panties and a bra with worn‑out straps for her.  Carolyn was only allowed to wear them for P.E., so I had her keep them in her gym locker.  I never let her bring them home, so by the end of the year, they were torn, filthy and stiff from the accumulated sweat and other body fluids.  Since she had gym right after lunch, she usually had time to get into the locker room before the other girls showed up.  Every so often, though, I=d delay her ‑ usually by getting a blow job in the bushes behind the shop building ‑ so that she=d have to risk the other girls seeing her.  Most of her classmates already had their suspicions about her, so I don=t think her not‑so‑secret becoming common knowledge would have changed much.

 

I added a new twist to her dress code that year, making her wear a red scarf around her neck during her period.  It took a while, but some of the girls finally figured it out, and soon word was passed to the whole school...Carolyn is wearing red...she's on rag!.  It was deathly embarrassing to her, and totally amusing for me.  Other than the scarf and being able to wear undergarments for gym, her dress code remained the same.  She wore nothing but above-the-knee dresses, socks and shoes. 

 

There were a number of other rules I instituted, as well.  First and foremost, she was not allowed to speak to any other male except a teacher or faculty member, and then only in response to a question.  When spoken to by me or a male teacher, she was to keep her eyes lowered submissively (the teachers thought she was just shy) and respond in a soft, demure voice, with Asir@ being the first or last word out of her mouth. Her knees were never allowed to touch each other, and she had to sit with her bare ass on her chair seat. She was not allowed to use the toilets at school.  If there was an emergency, she would come to me and I=d let her squat on the dirt behind the shop building.  If she changed tampons at school, she had to keep soiled one with her until she could dispose of it at home.  I can still remember the first time I made her walk home, carrying the wet, bloody tampon in her mouth.  She wretched the entire way, finally vomiting on the back steps of the house.

 

Because of the way she dressed and acted, she quickly became a pariah.  She had no friends, and not just because I didn't permit her to have any. The boys and girls both considered a freak, making her the butt of jokes and many rude, often obscene comments.  My friends would talk to me about her, but I=d just dismiss their comments with a shrug.  They knew I was one of the best students in school, while Carolyn lagged at the bottom of the class.  It wasn't because she was stupid; she was just as intelligent as me.  No, the reason she did so poorly in school is because I forbade her from doing any studying, and punished her for every test in which she scored a B or better. She also knew each D or F would mean I=d grant her one favor ‑ her favorite thing was for me to give her oral sex ‑ so she tried her best - or least - on her tests.  Her future was going to be as someone=s property, and she didn't need to know much more than wash, clean, cook and fuck.  Reading a cookbook was important; being able to recite the Preamble to the Constitution, understanding Siddhartha, and knowing how to graph an inequality, simply were not things she needed to be skilled at.

 

It was about this time ‑ just before the end of our sophomore year ‑ that Dad found out what has going on.   The day that happened, I just knew my life was going to come to an end.