Can I Be a Slave and Be Property?

Some people like to ask me that.  I guess it’s because I use the labels so interchangeably.  Sometimes I say that I am Owned or I am a slave. Other times I will say that I am His property.

In the hierarchy of BDSM, I would say it’s like being a sub first.  You are exploring your submission.  Not really an obedient little thing. You still have a freedom in your life to do what you want and can say “no” to things. You are a submissive, not yet a slave.

Then you become a slave. This is where it gets serious.  (in my opinion) More of your life is focused on your Master. Doing things for Him, for His approval and of course, His pleasures.   You obey without much resistance or question.  I think at this point, you can still use the words sub and slave interchangeably. 

We graduate from slave to property

To be called property, I would have to believe its when your entire existence is devoted to your Owner.  He controls every part of your life.  It’s like you are not living unless you are doing something for Him. He is your Owner.

And I think that is where I am.  I am His slave in that He controls every part of me, I obey. And I am property because I look to Him for everything.  He is the one who cares for me and He alone gets to decide how or when I am to be used.  I do not move unless He is directing me in way or another.

And it is here where some people have an issue.  Maybe a misunderstood issue or an issue with their own fears of what they want out of their relationship. They hear the word “Property” and they see in their mind, that dim-witted bimbo. The slave who is more robotic than human. She lives in a cage and is let out only when the Owner wants her to be used. 

They say “I’m not property” Or “I’m not a slave”. So I ask why do they think that?  They will add “I can still think for myself and do things that please me!!   No Man will ever control me that much!”

As if, as His property, I have no free thought or free will?  Is that what people really think when they see that I am a slave or that I say I am His property?  That I am just this thing that follows orders and routines?

Remember, I did not wake up one day and say “I am Property” and ta-dah, it all became clear.  We worked up to it. We became our roles.

There is a reason and there is a process to how I came to be His property. We grew into the roles.  We just grew into them faster than most other people who come up the ranks in the world of Master and slave.

I’ve always known and admitted that my relationship with my Owner is not the norm.  we started out as He – Master. Me- slave.  There was no vanilla in our dating relationship. There was no submissive learning to be a slave learning to be His property.

There was no vanilla courtship. No dating in the vanilla sense.  So, we started from a spot farther down that road than most others.  But we did that because we had already been through it all before and so we wanted to “cut to the chase” as my Dad always said. 

No Warmup for being Master/slave

I knew what I wanted for my life, and He knew what He wanted for His life.

He had a great life He was living.  He did not NEED a slave. But often thought about what it would be like to have a woman who was there only for Him all the time. She was not there for “Them” as in “couples”.  She was there in His life. Period. 

He had no reason to change.  So she would have to fit into His life or not be there at all.  He had no desire to meet in the middle and cave to what she may need or want in her world.  There was going to no “slave in the bedroom, lover in public” relationship.

There was no middle ground on this. A slave or nothing.  He was ok either way.

Like I said, He already had a nice life before me, without a full-time slave.  He had His own business. Great friends.  Nice house and comfortable living style. He also women who loved to come over occasionally for a couple of days and play like they were His slave.  Then after 24, 48, or 72 hours, they were done with that and wanted to go back to their regular life. 

But for a few days every couple of months, they were able escape their real world and enter the forbidden world of sexual slavery and kink. 

They got to live out their fantasy as being one man’s toy house slave for awhile.    Then when they decided to, go back to being friends on equal terms.  He liked that. For Him, He knew He could live either way nicely.  

For me, I was like Him in the way that I was wanting to be a slave and nothing more.  I did not want to be a slave in private, girlfriend/wife in public.  I had my fill of what would start out as boyfriend/girlfriend with Master/slave tendencies.  Then after a while, it would go to occasional M/s and a lot more boyfriend/girlfriend.  Where I was asked “what do you think?” with the answer being a negotiated answer.

Or worse and more common. I was used for their sexual and BDSM fantasies then when something skinnier, prettier and with more sex appeal came around, they were gone in a flash and I was left all alone.

For me, my Master would be a compliment to my loves and desires.  I wanted to know that we had similar tastes and similar desires, but that always, He was going to be in charge. His decision (even after taking with me, if he did) was what was best for Him and that I would follow and enjoy following.

As it was pointed out by the man who discovered my submissive/slave tendencies, that I just liked to help other people that I respected. I had the need to be the one who made their lives easier. I would be there for them and obey when they asked me to do something. It was natural for me, I enjoyed serving special people.

I’m a what??

Before He told me that I was a slave, I was a slave and didn’t know it.  I thought of it as just being thoughtfully needed.  Being nice and respectful. Fulfilling a need I had inside to honor and assist those I felt a respect for.  To call me a slave that first time, was absolutely insulting. Now it’s an honor badge!

The problem that I fought was the wording.  “Slave”.  I was already used to being called “fat” “hefty” and other derogatory names for my size.  Being excluded from games, parties, and classmates gathering due to my unpopular size.

Since my teen years, I have always had an issue with weight. And in dating, I often knew it would end the moment the boy I was with found a skinnier woman who he could chase or date.  And I was usually right. 

So, in my thirties, I decided to take a break from dating and focus on my career in fashion retail. After two years of absolute celibacy, I decided to give myself a final treat.  A two-week vacation in Phoenix and maybe even go off and explore their active BDSM community. To attend one of their kink events.   And that is where I ran into Him. 

No, I am serious. As He was coming out of the restroom and I was going in, I ran Him over.  Like a whale hitting a small fishing boat.  Helping Him up is when our eyes met and locked and we smiled as we said “hello” in unison.  It was kinda cute!

He gave me a tour of the facility.  Well, actually, He took over from the person who was there to show the new people around.   It was a quick “here it is” then out to a nearby restaurant to talk. And we talked for hours about everything.

Without podding or asking, He made it truly clear, IF He were ever to have a slave, she would be just that. A slave, His slave. His property. Not a girlfriend, not a lover, but His slave. From day one and onward.  “She would have to fit into my life.”

I was already in love with that idea. After meeting His friends, I knew He was a respectable man and had good taste in people.  According to His friends, His word was His bond. It really was.

From the restaurant, I went with His friends and Him to His place where I did things I never would have done on a first date if I were not 1800 miles away from home.  I was the house slave to a group of wonderful non-judgmental people.  They didn’t know my friends and I didn’t know theirs.  I thought, why not? At least I would have one night to really live in my fantasy.

What did I have to lose? I figured that after playing their games with the fat chick, they would tire of me and send me packing with tears in her eyes while they laughed and joked about it all.  I could truly say that I at least got a chance to taste my dream world, if for only one night.  The tears afterward would be worth the time.

But I was so wrong.  They never did kick me out. He never sent me packing.  They were wonderful, loving people who enjoyed what they had..

It was known that I was there as HIS slave. I knew I was there to become His slave.  Over time, we worked on the whole slave thing.  Going into every possible situation. To know what He would never ask His slave to do were things I never wanted to do.  (like rob a bank!)

He had things He wanted me to do that I did not really want to do.  But with Him, over time. I felt confident by His words and His actions that He would keep me safe. He may at times hurt me, but He would never HARM me. So, after a while, I let it all go and went full on as His slave and do as He command.  

As His slave, I knew I had some limits IF I wanted them. I also knew I had an out IF I wanted one. We even had forms made up and a bank account set up to make sure I was taken care of if either of us walked away.

Knowing I was Owned Part One

Then we moved to Las Vegas. It was here that I realized that I had graduated to being His property. 

When we went looking for a place to live, He knew what He wanted in a house and when we found it, He said “sold”. I had no real say in it.  He said it and it was done.  But I had to agree, knowing what He wanted in a Master’s house with a dutiful slave in it, it was the perfect house for my Owner and so it was for His slave.

As His Property, I was equal to His beloved truck.  He babied that thing, but He also would use it rough when He wanted to. It has its own place in the garage that is always well equipped, and it is kept clean and taken care of faithfully.  The same goes for the car that I’m allowed to drive.

As His property, I have my own place when not being needed by Him. I have my own room where He can lock me in it when He wants to.  There is a “slave only” bathroom in the garage. The only bathroom in the house where I am allowed to use.  To shower, shave my bits and parts as well as wash and do my make-up is right there in the bathroom in the garage without a door or any means of privacy.

The bathrooms in the house are for people, not slaves. He doesn’t bring the truck into the house to wash it or clean it, why should He do that with me?

Talk, Talk, Talk

We knew from day one, that lives change.  People change. What we do and how we do it now will change in the coming years.  We also knew this relationship would change. I went from submissive/slave to slave then to property. 

He went from Master to Owner.  We aged and as we did, the way we operate has changed to fit the new “us”.  Little things as we age.  But the roles we have never changed. I am His slave and His property.

The place I feel a lot of people fail in their relationships is in the communications.  It’s almost natural in relationships that we don’t really talk.  Or at least we don’t open up 100% to each other. We have a natural tendency to hold something back.  Just in case this thing goes bad.  We still have something that is our own.

As His slave, He runs my life. He decides when and what I will eat and if and when I will have sex and with who.  He has girlfriends. He doesn’t have to tell me about them, but He does because there is no reason not to. I am not going anywhere.

We talk. We have moments, times where I can sit at His feet and we just talk like two people. No formalities, no whispers or secrets. No question too stupid or strange.  He does the same. Any question gets an honest answer.

There are days where I am working hard at my job.  Some office girls or other work friends will want to go out for lunch. I am allowed to as long as I let Him know. So I send Him a text. If no answer in 5 minutes, I am allowed to make my own decision.

Same with everything else. I know I need to let Him know everything I am doing.  Including bathroom needs.  He may not respond, but I still send Him a text to say what I need to do. If He replies with a “NO”, I will obey.

But most times, He will let it go and let me do what I need to do.  The simple rule of thumb is: “what do you think Master-Sir’s answer would be?”  and I go with that. 

That’s where I know I am property.  I am never out of His reach.

As His property, I am on display. Even when I am out, I am on display and I reflect His care and training in me when I am out. I represent Him.  He is my Owner and what I do reflects back onto Him. I know that and I am aware of what I am doing and how I am being perceived at almost all times.

When I am working at my job in the resort, I am thinking more about Him than my Boss. I will please my Boss while doing the best job that I can.  I do that because I am pleasing my Owner first. If I please Him, I know my Boss will be pleased as well.

I am not there because I like the job ( I love what I do) and there is nothing better. I am there because it’s the place my owner wants me. It uses most of my skills to His benefit.  But I will not chase a new job opening or apply for any other job unless my Owner tells me to.   

My Boss has a suspicion I will not be leaving His department for any new job that comes up, and He likes that feeling He can trust I will be there for Him.

Enjoying Being Used For Sex

I have never been a sexual person in the fact that I love to have sex, but I don’t NEED to have sex.  When I have sex, I want them to enjoy it more then I enjoy it.  I have always been that way.  I love sex, but only when I am with someone who is happy using me for sex.  When I realized that I was truly a slave, it really finally made sense to me in this department.

I never masturbated too much growing up or when I was without a boyfriend because it only pleased me when I did. I was alone in my room or wherever and I would dream of being a slave and I would bring myself to a climax and be done with it. I was ok if I did and I was ok if I didn’t. Because it was only me bringing me pleasure.

Now when I masturbate, its for the enjoyment of others. Its often mixed with humiliation play, something that I hated before. But now enjoy it at the hands of my Owner.  But I do it because it brings THEM joy to watch me do it.

When I am told to have sex with someone, I do it and I enjoy it because I know my Owner is enjoying me being used. So I want the person using me to really enjoy using me. I want to be enjoyed.

Thankfully, in my teen years, my best male friend Mark, showed me how to be used for sex and He used me often for sex so I got really good at it.  blowjobs first, then Anal sex. Vaginal sex was not important to Him or to me. 

I know when people read that I am being ”used for sex” it sounds like maybe I am just there with my legs spread. They assume my body is in a position to be fucked while in my mind, I am off doing my shopping list.  Laying there. looking into space until I feel Him filling my hole with his seed. Then a quick clean up and it is a done deal. 

WRONG! Wrong!

In reality, when I am being used by someone for sex, and that is what I mean. I am being used for their sexual desires, I am pleasing them. So I am with them 100% in the use of me for their sexual desires.

The moans are real and they are often. As well as the tears are real when I am hurting. I will not stop you if I am being used roughly because I see that smile on your face, so I know you are enjoying it and so I enjoy it as well.

I am not there for my enjoyment except the fact that I enjoy being used for the purpose of my Owner’s pleasure and happiness. I am there in that time and place because I was told to be there at that time and to be used for their enjoyment. Not mine.  Make sense??

Slave Sex is Good Sex

I enjoy sex and as I get older, I am needing to have more of it.  The nice thing is that my owner enjoys offering me to others for their sexual needs. Their sexual use and abuse.  I enjoy being used more for someone else’s enjoyment than I do for just my own pleasures. 

And with slave sex, there is no warm up, no foreplay (usually), no romance, and when they are done, we are done. 

I can assure you; I am not just there in body with a hole for them to abuse. My heart, body, mind and soul are there to make sure we are both going to have something to talk about when asked about the event. I want them to USE me and to make sure they are happy with how I was used.

Just because I am not always saying we are having sex, i like to say that I am being used. That’s because I often think in those terms. Having sex, in my mind, often means someone who is not a slave. Having sex, in my mind, is usually when both parties are there for their own pleasures on their own time. and have an emotional attachment to the act or the person. I am being used fits me better.

I am there because my Owner found you worthy enough to loan you one of His prized possessions. I am there because He wants to make sure You enjoy using his property.  He wants you to come back for more and to let Him know the gift of the slave to use for whatever you used me for was not forgotten.  If I was a good enough hole to use once, they will work on being a friend well enough to have another shot at the use of me.

Using Me

I am Being Used!! It’s not us having sex, its me being wonderfully used for your pleasures and for the happiness of my Owner.  My skills are being used for a wonderful purpose.

For someone who spent her early years being made fun of by other boys and girls for her size, this is a new and wonderful experience.  Men who would have never given me a second look like a vanilla date now wants to come back and want to fuck me again. 

I am being appreciated now for giving someone a blowjob or being the one person who let a man enjoy anal sex on His terms. Knowing He will not have to beg for it. I am there, my hole is there and waiting for you to use it for your pleasures.  He can now say He had anal sex His way and that is it was great! 

That is a big thing in my book of life!

I am there to make sure you know I am to be used however rough you want to use me and however ways you are allowed to use me. I want to be used by you.  Trust me, there is plenty of padding font, back, and sides, you won’t really hurt me!

My ass is my favorite hole to be abused.  I love to feel it being filled. My mouth is the second favorite hole to have filled.

Sit back and let me show you how much I love to have a cock in my mouth or ass and how much you will enjoy the climax and the cleanup.   It doesn’t matter what hole was used, I am there to make sure you don’t have to stress about the clean up afterward.  My mouth has come to enjoy those moments afterward. I salivate at the thought of cleaning up a cock that was just used in one of my holes.     

Shoving your hard cock in either of these holes, I know that I will enjoy the climax more than you will. I love that warm feeling as you fill me up.  Yes, that smile, even if i have tears rolling down my face, there is a smile on my face and its real.

Now my pussy? that’s another story.

My pussy is my least favorite hole for me to offer you. Its like me, it’s a fat sloppy thing that gets really wet and ugly.  But I do enjoy it when my Owner uses it. It’s a strange thing. I can tell when He is using my pussy compared to any other cock. I know His cock and my body, my pussy responds better to His cock in that hole. So I have a greater climax (with permission) when He is fucking that hole. I’m strange. I know it!   

Knowing I was Owned Part 2

Another point that made it clear that I have graduated from slave to property was when he decided to use me as His urinal.

My morning routine was to kneel at the side of the bed, holding His morning coffee and slowly wake Him up.

Most times He is already awake, just waiting for me to kneel with that fresh brewed cup of his morning caffeine in my hands.  He would get up, take the cup, say good morning and get up to walk to the bathroom, then after that, start His routine of shaving and brushing teeth and maybe a shower.

One morning He woke up, smiled at me as He took the coffee and pushed my mouth onto His limp cock with the instructions to “drink it and don’t dare spill a drop.”

Not knowing what exactly He meant, I knew whatever it was, I was to keep my mouth on His cock or I was going to be punished.  When I felt that first burst of warm fluids. I wanted to pull back and choke because of the horrible taste and the mental notion of knowing what it was.  But my mind over-road my body and did as it was instructed to do by my Owner.

Ok, my mind also heard my Owner say “Spill a drop of it and I will beat your ass like never before”

This is now a morning ritual as well as sometimes during the day in other places, He will do the same thing with the same instructions. I never question it and my body responds naturally to it.

Even now, after a few years, I still do not like the taste, but that is not what is important.  It’s what my Owner wants me to do. Its how He wants to use His property that matters.  It makes Him happy to use me in that way, so I naturally do it.   

Other uses for His Property

It is in these moments that I know that I am Owned. I am not just a slave to my Master. I am property being used and exercised by my Owner only for His enjoyment.  Letting me know He wants to make sure I am kept in prime working order by being used in the ways He wants to use me. Not just kept in a cage until wanted.

As a slave, I have a job outside the house.  But my money goes into “His” bank account. It is His to spend.  But as His property, I am there to make sure the bills are paid. I am also His slave accountant. 

Like other things in the household, He likes to review what I have done and give me His blessing or my punishment.  But I am there to do the things He does not want to do. As His property, I know it belongs to Him, even if I earned it.  It’s His to do with as He desires.

For me to spend money, I do need His permission for most purchases.  That is done in a variety of ways and He has established limits for me so I know there are things I can buy without needing to bother asking Him permission. I still ask most times…   

If I do this and it crossed the line for whatever reason He thinks, I will accept the punishment and will know not to do it again.

His house is His palace and I am the maid who keeps I clean to His specifications.  He will also offer my domestic skills to others and I will do for their home what I do for His.  Not that I like to clean house, but I like to serve and make sure you are happy with what I have done for you. Because if you are happy, my Owner is happy and that means I am happy.

I think, that if I were just His slave, this all would not work as well it does now. I am not there to question; I am there to serve.  If I do have a question, it will not stop me from doing as I am told.   I will do as instructed then at the appropriate time, discuss my concern as we have agreed.

So yes, I guess I am more than just a slave, I am Owned, I am Property and I enjoy being all that for my Owner!

I am Owned.  She is Owned!