Welcome

Perhaps no one will ever read this. Perhaps no one will ever care about the steps that brought me to this place in my life and world.  It matters not.  I speak because the joy that is bubbling through my heart and soul cannot be contained.  That may not make sense to anyone else, but it really only has to make sense to me. 

To those who choose to read this and follow my journey, I only ask that you respect my choices for MY life.  I do not claim to have "the answers" for anyone else.  I don't claim to know how best someone else should live his or her own life.  I only know that I have found a peace and joy in making this decision.

I am a slave girl.  I am owned by my master to whom I have also been married for almost 30 years.  Even speaking those words causes my heart to beat more rapidly.  We have not yet come far in this journey, but it feels as though a lifetime has passed.

You may ask how I came to this place.  The truth is that I'm not quite sure.  Not more than a few weeks ago, I was the fiercely independent queen of all I surveyed.  I ruled this home and this family.  Sometimes that worked, sometimes not so much.  Because I am, at heart, a spoiled brat, I used that power to direct the world around me, that included the lives of my adult children and anyone else, like my spouse, who fell into my sphere of influence.

I work outside the home.  I am highly respected and appreciated in my place of work.  They know nothing of the transformation that has taken place within my heart and soul.  In truth, other than being a happier person, it doesn't affect my work life that much.  I am still the steady, reliable, intelligent and creative employee that I have always been.

So, again, how did I go from that to naked and collared (at home.  While at work, I know that beneath my clothes, I am a naked slave girl.)  I'm not entirely sure.  My spouse loves me.  He would never seek to dominate me but I caused him much frustration, grief and aggravation.  At the same time, he relied upon me to run the household, pay bills and generally organize things.  All of which I do fairly well.  We have no debt except for our house.  I will admit that it was touch and go when he was unemployed for 6 months, but because I saved diligently, anticipating such a situation, we survived.

One area where we struggled has been sex, but sex isn't really at the root of this issue, it was merely a symptom.  We have always had a very active sex life....until about 7 years ago.  We even, during one madcap 3 year span, had a sexual relationship with another couple.  I firmly believe that sex is good and more sex is  usually better.  However, I had stopped wanting sex.  Even after the depression passed, I really didn't want sex.  I didn't want and didn't think I needed anyone intimately.  As we've had separate rooms for several years because my waterbed doesn't give him enough support and his mattress is hard on my joints, it was easy to shut him out. I would have had to make a conscious effort to initiate sex and I didn't want to.  If he initiated it, most often, I shut him down.  Going from have sex 5-6 times a week to 12 times a year was a bit rough on my spouse.

When I realized yesterday, what I had put him through and how I had hurt him with my rejections, I wept and begged his forgiveness.  He survived on the droplets that I so stingily dispensed and a healthy dose of porn and vaseline.  I, to be quite frank, didn't care.  If we had sex, I didn't want to be touched.  I didn't want him to kiss me.  I didn't want it to take too long.  I didn't want anything remotely "kinky".

My sexual reawakening was a slow process over the course of a year.  I cannot point to one moment when suddenly the switch was flipped from "off" to "on".  I just know that suddenly, in limited ways, I was enjoying the way he touched my body.  Taking cues from the porn that he watched, he began to try to stimulate my body in ways that I wouldn't just stop him.

He found the right button.  Over the course of several weeks we went from cautiously talking about variations in sexual techniques to willing suspension of disbelief that such things were truly possible to desperately wanting some of them to work.  Some things, like anal intercourse, took time.  If you want that to work, it takes patience and tenderness and a hell of a lot of lube and a good supply of "bedroom toys".  When playing with the toys became sexually titillating and then satisfying I became more desperate to share that pleasure with him, to the point of frustrated tears when my body didn't jump to cooperate.  He was patient  and gentle and never critical (something *I*sure can't say).  He just made me wait until my body was as willing as my mind.

So how  does all of that lead to slavery?  How did that lead to me becoming the naked  sex slave of my husband?  How did that all lead me to where I sit today?  Naked, in front of a computer with wearing only a collar and slave bracelets and  contemplating a slave tattoo?

In some ways, it is easier to experiment, to be sexually creative, when you abdicate the position of making the decisions.  My husband who truly isn't a submissive man, but I certainly have treated him that way (he's very indulgent and spoils me shamelessly)  became MORE dominant and I gradually allowed him to take more and more control of where our physical relationship was going.  "If you'll be patient, I will be open-minded" morphed into "if you say this will be enjoyable, then I believe you".

In my fantasies, I had always wanted a man who would "take charge", be in command.  I read the first of the John Norman "Gor" books at age 18 and found them exciting.  My best friend introduced me to them and together we discussed such things as how to perform specific positions, etc.  Later, after I was married, I introduced those same stories to my husband.  Since he isn't a reader (but loves being read to), I read them aloud for us.  That resulted in many nights of sexual pleasure.  The seed of the idea can be found there. Those nightly readings later included some of my favorite romance novelists and Jean Auel's books, although, after about the 10th time of  reading about Jondalar's sexual expertise, I started skipping the sex scenes. 

As we began to get sexually creative, I began to relate some of my deepest sexual fantasies to my husband, including the idea of being his naked slave girl.   I wondered what it would be like if he were to "take me" in front of guests?  What would it be like  to be ordered to "please" a friend of his sexually?  If he chose to sell me, would he watch my auction?  Would it turn him on to see me naked in front of an auction house full of men going through my slave paces? (Yeah, YES was the answer to that one.)  If I was sold to a paga tavern would he come to watch me?  Would he use me?  How would he use me?

I think you get the drift.  Talk became play.  One night he bound my wrists and tied them above my head.  He used ties to bind each ankle in a wide spread position and then he lavishly used my body.  OMG.  I get shivers just thinking about it.  He used one of his ties around my throat as both collar and leash.  After nearly strangling on it one night, I begged for a "real" collar.  Little did I know the effect that would have on me emotionally.  Wow.

Now, if he wants something  sexually, I try my best to see that he gets it.  Somethings work better if one is a porn star or just a lot younger and less fragile than I am.  Somethings take the flexibility  and endurance of an Olympic gymnast.  Sometimes, we simply end up rolling on the mattress giggling because when put into actual practice, the idea was plainly silly.

Why couldn't we have all of that without the collar and  submission?  I don't really know.  I just know that I rocked my world with one sentence this morning.  "I willingly submit to you, Master."  That was followed by the collaring and "I am your slave girl, Master."  In the few steps it took to get from the kitchen where that all happened to the living room and the chair he intended for  our morning romp, I shattered inside.  The import of what I said hit me.  *I* wasn't playing a game.  *I* meant what I said.

I will leave the house tomorrow morning to go to work, but underneath my clothes, I will be his naked slave girl.  When I return home in the evening, he will strip me in the kitchen and lead me to where ever he wants.  If he tells me in advance, it is because he wants to.  He may tell me or he may just lead me.  If I disobey, he will lash me or take me naked  across his knee and spank me until my ass is glowing  red.  Then he will use me, not gently, but firmly, to reinforce the lesson of who commands.

This journey will take the rest of my lifetime, but I want this.  I want to be his naked slave girl.  I am honest with him that for some things, it is the thought that he "could" do it that thrills me, but I would rather he not do it (I'll go into depth on that later).  For other things, I thrill to know  that he will do it, at the right time and in the right place.

For now, I listen for him to call me (he worked last night). I wonder if he will order me to kneel  near his cock to suck it or if he'll order me to my hands and knees to be fucked?  If he  fucks me, will he fuck my pussy or my ass?  Will it be slow and painfully gentle or will it be fast, pounding and explosive?  Will he tie me or will he order me to a new position that I haven't tried before?

I joyously anticipate his call.  I am his naked slave girl.