Finding Me Part 4

He can't be real, can he?

(This really won’t make much sense unless you’ve read the earlier posts!)

As I was getting up my courage to tell this handsome stranger that he had just outlined the exact life I had dreamed of, we were interrupted by about ten other people. Some were dressed in kink, but most were not.

Once they were all seated, he introduced me to his best friends as a “little subbie girl” he met at the party.

For a minute, I had a flashback. They resembled all the pretty people who had taunted me in high school. They were skinny, pretty, popular, good-looking, and had everything going for them.

But these were adults, not high school kids. They all smiled, said hello with real conviction, and asked me some questions about why I was there and where I was from. It was not like they were just making time or trying to pretend they cared; they wanted to talk to me!

After being introduced, I did what a good slave does: pull back and let others talk. Not all of them were into BDSM, but they knew he was; they were there because he was there, and they wanted to have a little fun for the weekend exploring the other side of the slash.

His friends were all genuine. They surprised me by how they naturally embraced this stranger from the frozen tundra. I was not used to hot yet friendly women wanting to talk to me—very open and without an agenda. He was one of those people who enjoyed life, and it showed. He also had a natural command of the room without saying a word, and people loved it—they loved him.

Finally, after too many diet cokes, I had to use the ladies’ room and started to get up. He stopped me. “A good slave always asks permission to leave the table,” I retorted with a smile. I’m not your slave, am I?” He smiled, “That's up to you, sweetie.” That got a nice gasp from the group. “May I use the ladies' room, Sir?” with a heavy emphasis on the Sir. His response was a simple “You may.”

After that little exchange, my legs wobbled to the ladies' room as I tried to catch my breath. I had to pinch myself to make sure this was real.

After I finished my business, I was still shaking. I had difficulty understanding that all these wonderful people I had just met had taken me in and let me be a part of their world. And this tall, handsome man had me on an invisible leash I wanted never to let go of.

Leaning against the wall, trying to keep myself from falling, one of the ladies from the group came in and started to talk, telling me I must have something special. She said she had not seen him smile as much as he had tonight in a long time.

She made sure we were alone as she leaned into me. I could feel her heart beating—or maybe it was mine. She was close to me and had that serious “we need to talk” look on her face.

She explained that he does have many friends, but the ones he does have are friends for life. As his friend, she thought I needed to know that he doesn't play games and hates people who waste his time. I needed to be all in if I wanted to get anywhere in his life beyond a dinner date.

Was she already telling them about being part of his life? I just met him, them, an hour or two ago. And she is telling me this? Thinking at this point, I had nothing to lose.

“How do I do that?” I asked. If I wanted to serve him, she guessed it, no games. Best way to get his attention? Her answer was simple: Remove my panties, walk out there confidently, straight to the table, crunch them up, and put them on the table in front of him before sitting back down.

I thanked her as she left. That did little to stop my nerves from shaking. I am reminding myself that I was 1800 miles away from home. Nobody here knows me. Even if he is using me for a kinky night of play, maybe he gets a blowjob or two. His friends see a fat chick get used, and then, in the end, he kicks me to the curb. Ok. I can live with that.

I will at least be able to tell myself that I had one night of slave ecstasy. One night of living my dream is better than no nights of never tasting it. Right? What do I have to lose?

My New Life Begins?

I did as she said, I took off my very wet panties, bundled them in my hand, walked out, and without looking at him or even breathing, placed them on the table in front of him for all to see.

Remember, I'm not a skinny chick. These were not the tiny ones the beautiful girls wore; they were nice but my size, so there was no way of easily hiding them. Also, I always buy the best. But they were there, and I was sure everyone could smell them. I think the entire room could smell them. I was blushing. I know I was blushing. But I did it!

He smiled but said nothing as He left them there. After I sat down, the conversation changed to moving the party to His place. I was never asked to join; I guess it was assumed that I was following Him, which is what I did, like a lost puppy.

As we got up to leave, he took the panties and grabbed my arm, walking me to his truck. When we got out to the parking lot, he told me I would ride with him. Again, there was no discussion. One of the other ladies offered to take my car.

I felt like I was being set up for a major fall. Too many times in my past, this was the case, There has got to be a catch to all this. But I didn’t care. He seemed like this was real, that he wanted me, so I went with him.

As I got into the truck, he stopped me. “Slaves are naked in the truck.” I looked at him to see if he was serious, “Get naked or drive your own car. Hurry up and decide. let’s go.”

With the others in their vehicles and the light shining on me, Apparently, this is his rule, and they know it. As I heard her yelling at me again, “Take them off. I’ll get them back to you.” So that’s what I did, in the bright lights of the vehicles and in the view of some really wonderful people. They watched as this fat chick with big, saggy boobs got naked and jumped into his truck.

As I jumped into His truck, he put a towel down on my side. “Don't get the upholstery wet, or I will beat your ass” And we were off.

Flashbacks from when I first walked out of my boyfriend's apartment, going with a man who first called me a slave, I went into what was to be my new life without a care. I was happy..

With all these people dressed and having fun, I walked into this strange man’s house naked. He told me to follow him. He walked me around his home, showing me everything. He told me I was welcome to stay, but if I did, I would stay as his slave, and as his slave, it was my job to keep the house clean and organized as he showed me.

After the tour, we returned to the main part of the house. Everyone sat around a big dining room table, laughing and joking. One got up to get a beer, and when he told them to sit, he looked at me. “Well,” I smiled and quickly got what everyone wanted to drink.

I was the only one naked, and nobody cared. A couple smiled at me and had me come over to them so they could feel my tits or see that I was wet (I was soaking), But it was all in good fun.

I figured I had nothing to lose. Even if he kicks me out on the street in the morning, I can say I lived my dream for a night. But he didn’t. It all continued.

At one point, they turned the TV on and played commentary on the news—like watching Saturday Night Live news. During the commercial breaks, he had me sit on the floor in front of the TV and play with myself while they watched.

They continued to talk about whatever they were talking about; all I was was the visual entertainment. My wet pussy made loud slosh noises, and I knew I had left a wet spot.

It felt like I was being ignored, but I wasn’t. It was humiliating, and humiliation was always a big “Hell No” on my list of turn-ons and turn-offs. But these wonderful people made me feel safe in being humiliated.

They would stop me when the news came back on; it didn’t matter if I had cum yet or not. (I didn’t) . I went to sit at His feet when they didn’t need me for anything. While I was at His feet, he liked to reach down and pull on my nipples or twist them until I reacted in pain (pleasure?)

Nobody mentioned anything about sex or using me for sex. I was just there for their entertainment, as their naked maid and play toy. That was it, and it was beautiful. It was like a dream I was having.

I was kept on edge all night. I didn’t dare ask to orgasm; they were having too much fun teasing me. And they never seemed to care that I was breathing heavily or that I was red with shame or that I was near orgasm when I was commanded to stop. I was there for their enjoyment. In their way, they were letting me know my place in their world.

Later that night, after saying goodbye to his friends, they all said they hoped to see me again (and meant it). That was such a warm and wonderful feeling. After they left, he went back to sit and watch TV while I was told to clean the house back to how it was when I first arrived.

Once he was happy with how I did my job, he said, “Now, you are allowed to come upstairs.” He walked me up the stairs to the bedrooms. He showed me the “slave” bedroom.

He explained that if he had a slave spend the night, and he didn't want her to be in his bedroom for whatever reason, he would lock her in there. Telling me, “You sleep where your Master tells you to sleep,” What came out of me was like an automatic response, as I replied with the proper “Yes, Sir.”

At the entrance to the master bedroom, he had me kneel. “Except for your morning duties, you will never enter the Master bedroom without permission.”

He looked at me. “well?’ I smiled as I looked up into those beautiful steel-blue eyes. “Sir, may this slave spend the night with you?” The word Sir had never come out of my mouth so easily before.

I crawled behind him to the side of the bed. He pointed at a dog bed on the floor. I climbed into it. He explained his evening ritual, and I followed him. Then, back to my doggie bed.

Telling me I had a choice; it may be the last one I have while there. I can sleep with him as his slave. This means that He has full use of me without any question. In case he has an erotic dream or a need, he could roll over and use me as he wants. “Fuck one of your holes or play with those melons of yours.” Or. I could get a good night's sleep on the floor in the pet bed where I could think about things.

I just knelt at His feet and looked up into his beautiful eyes. At this point, I would have slept outside, naked in the front yard, if that's where he told me to.

“ where do you want me, Sir?”

More to come.

…..

This is my life, and I love it.
Love,
Bitch slave

(please leave me your comments and thoughts or questions)