Finding Me Pt 7

30 Days of Hell

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

From the moment we arrived at the Phoenix airport, my tears never stopped flowing, and the pain was unbearable. But I couldn't exactly tell anyone why I was like this. I had heartache like I never had before.

It wasn’t really bad pain, yet, can it be “good pain?” Is there such a thing as that?

I was fighting the angel vs the devil on my shoulder. He told me to “go back home” for thirty days. Is this like a brush-off? Or was he serious? Giving me time to really think about whether I wanted this life.

He told me numerous times that if I still felt like this after that month, I would be welcomed back to be his real-life full-time slave. It wasn’t going to be as his lover and his slave. It was me being his slave from moment one.

In my head, I immediately saw this as another brush-off. “I’m done with you; I had a great time using you; you gave great blowjobs, but have a nice life, bye-bye.”

But… He paid for me to fly home first class. If this was a “goodbye,” it was the best “F.O.” I ever had! Yes, I know I letting my past interfere with my future. I know. But I have had so many let-downs in my life that it’s an automatic response.

On the other hand, he spent almost two weeks with me, never giving me any signs that this was just a fun little side gig—a playtoy until something better came.

There was always something better coming in or out of his house the entire time I was there. And yet, I was still there each night after they left. I was the one waking up with Him, not them.

He let me into his life. He told me what he was looking for before he ever asked what I was looking for, and when he did, it was the same thing. Why would he do that if he didn't want me to return?

If I return, it would be as his slave. Nothing more. Under His control, my sex life would be his to dictate. He also made it clear that he would not allow any jealousy. Any sign of jealousy would be cause for a punishment. And he always told me any punishment would be swift and painful.

Is that what I wanted? Hell YES! I know this is what I dreamed of and masturbated to for so long. Dreaming of the day a man would want me as HIS slave. And now, here it is, staring me in the face. and I am trying to talk myself out of it.

He even scolded me when I described myself as “fat.” He told me to use the word “fluffy.” To him, it fits me better. What man does that to a woman he is kicking to the curb?

My brain was in overdrive, trying to understand this situation and see the downside and the bad part. And there wasn’t one that I could find. That scared me as much as it made me wet between my legs.

Home?

After landing, I went straight from the airport to my Loft, not telling anyone I was home—something I had never done before—but I had to. I had to figure out what my next step was going to be.

It was almost like he knew. As soon as I got unpacked, the phone rang. It was him checking to see if I had made it home and if I was alright. Now, my nerves started to relax, as this was the first of many long phone calls over the next couple of weeks.

He asked me if I remembered his rules, and I did. He told me that if this continued, I would be required to call Him the minute I get up in the morning and the last thing I do at night, at 9 p.m. every night.

That's how it went for the next four weeks. I would wake up and call him to tell him what I was doing that day. At night, I would tell him how my day went. He wanted every detail, including my bathroom breaks, who I went out with, and what I wore. After every phone call, I noticed the puddle I left on the bedsheet. Thinking of him as my Master kept me wet almost constantly.

Friday night’s was reserved for me to masturbate for him over the phone. It was the only time I was allowed to play with myself or have an orgasm. He made it very clear and even had me repeat it to Him on several of the calls: my sex life belongs to Him. My orgasms belong to him. He decides IF and when I will ever be allowed either one.

I knew where I wanted to be. Each day, Chicago started to seem less and less like home. It started to feel like I was just there to visit.

I started getting rid of things that meant nothing to me. He said that I could come with only one suitcase and a box of my belongings. Anything else would have to be put in storage.

People started to ask me about my change in attitude. I smiled more, didn't argue, and didn’t fuss. They figured it had to be some new man in my life. But who? How do I explain who he was, how I met him, and what he made me do?

They woudl really flip if I told them the truth. Yes, I can see it now. “Oh, I met him at a BDSM party and spent the next ten days being his naked slave.” They would have me committed. I just smiled and went about my business.

Family and friends started to get worried. Maybe I had fallen into a cult or was being brainwashed by this strange man they never met who lives 1800 miles away. My sisters laughed, telling my Mother that I was making it all up for sympathy or something. He sounded too good for them to believe that a man like that would want a woman like me.

When I gave my notice at work, my boss freaked out. She asked almost every day if this was what I wanted to do. She said she would write me an awesome reference letter but hated to see me go (and she did!).

Every night, we talked like old friends—for hours. Nothing was off limits, and I told him everything about my life, and he did the same. I learned he had family just three hours from where I lived and had not returned in a few years.

Each day, I started to think more and more as His slave. Before doing anything, I woudl think, ” What would Master want me to do?” and “Would this please Master?”

After thirty days of being on pins and needles, the day finally came. Knowing what waited for me in Phoenix made saying goodbye to family and friends much easier. I was practically running out the door to get to the airport to catch this flight so that I could start my dream life. I could not wait to get to Phoenix, get naked, and kiss his feet while telling him, “I’m home.” Sir

I knew I was going home—Where I belonged.

My dream was finally becoming real.

Thank you for reading,

Love,
Bitch slave

(please leave me your comments and thoughts or questions)