When I met my Owner, he had a very nice life as a single man about town. He was handsome and had his own business. He had some of the hottest women in Phoenix on his arm. And he had his privacy. His home was his man cave.

From what His friends had told me, he has always been a Dominant person. He bows to no one. A girlfriend is shown the door if she gets too controlling or demanding. He is the ruler of his life.

Before me, he had women who came in and out of his life. They loved to play the slave games with him for a couple of hours or maybe a day or two, but after a while, they wanted more of him—more time to play, maybe a little romance, maybe a little commitment. He would dump them at that point.

He had one lady he called his “pet,” an unhappy married woman who needed that fix every few weeks. Her husband would be off on a business retreat or something, and she would come over like on a Friday night, get naked, and want the roughest, humiliation/sex-filled weekend he could give her.

She would clean his house naked and on her knees; he would beat her ass before tieing her down and fucking the daylights out of her. He would put him in a corner and leave her there for hours while watching a movie or something.

From the moment she entered the house on Friday until she left Sunday night or Monday morning, at least one of her holes was plugged. She was his cumdump, beating bag, whipping post, cocksucker, maid, and cook.

By Sunday night, they were both tired and sore. They both got what they wanted. She would leave his house smiling and return to her boring life as a trophy wife’ for another couple of weeks, and he would return to being Him.

To Him, He had everything he wanted or needed. So, was anything beyond that something to distract himself or have fun with? But when it came to His house, it was his domain. His cave, his. He had rules — partly created by that unhappy married woman. She needed structure.

He isn’t one to play word games or “maybe think about something.” To him, it’s black and white. You are in his world, or you are not. He doesn’t need you but wants you in his life. If you can’t handle that, it’s not his problem. Have a nice life. Next.

As he told me once, ” I would really love to have a hot little Italian sports car. But I don’t need a hot little Italian sports car. But if one became available, I would be happy to have it.”

He made it clear that in the first week, I was just a thing, a slave—not a girlfriend, not a wife. When he comes home, he is not coming home to a loving wife and a happy life. He comes into his hideaway, locks the door, and relaxes. His slave is there to make everything happen, to make his life as free from stress as possible.

I am his property; he does with me as he wants, even if that means I would stay silent the entire day as I did my chores (I loved every minute of that).

So, for me, I had to accept the fact that he would have girlfriends he would romance and have sex with whenever he wanted. But I was not a girlfriend, I wasn’t there to be romanced. I was there to be sexually used. he would have sex with me when and if he wanted to. He was in charge of my sex life. He doesn’t have to tell me if he’s fucking someone, but he does. (we both get tested regularly).

The nice thing about him is that he is not much of a rules guy. He has a couple of major ones; honesty and obedience are the big two. I don’t need to learn the 101 poses of a proper alive or anything like that. He has things a certain way and doesn’t want it changed for me. I am taught to serve him that way.

As an example, when he worked out of the house, and I was home before him, he came home; I would already be naked and kneeling at the door. I removed his shoes, kissed his feet, and waited for him to go where he wanted, and I crawled behind him. Other than “Welcome home, Master,” I don’t speak until he tells me to or asks me a question.

When His friends visit, they get the exact same welcome.

I am always shaved from the neck down, always nude. When out at friends’ houses, the ones who know. When I entered their house, I got naked and became their maid. It’s just automatic.

After he sits down and serves him a cold beer or other drink, I kneel in front of him at his feet. He may want to fuck me, have me give him a blowjob, or just leave him alone. It is up to him.

Often, He just wants me to worship His cock as he talks about His day; afterward, he may ask about my day.

His house is his pride and joy, and he wants it always clean and organized.

If I screw up, I am punished immediately or as close to immediately as possible.

What may seem like rules are probably things he wants to push me on. When we met, I told him I wanted to see just how far down the submission rabbit hole I could go, and he agreed to hold my leash as we went down that hole together.

At what point do I say “enough?” I don’t know.

His thoughts are the same as mine: at what point will he have pushed me too far? Let’s find out.

He never lets me forget, and I am glad for this, that in his eyes, I am not a person. I am his property, to be owned, cared for, and used as he would a fine car.

FYI: He has a couple of classic cars that he uses and treats very well as he does his slave.

Is that cruel or humiliating for me to live? Yes, but it gives him the biggest hard-on of his life and keeps me hot and wet like nothing else.

When you flip that switch and start thinking, “She is my property to do with as I want, without any worry, needs to ask her consent or anything like that,” you start to live differently.

He is always happy, relaxed, and smiling. Why not? He has this well-trained slave to make sure that he doesn’t even have to think about any little thing that would annoy him or waste his time.

Once I gave myself to him as an owned slave, he decides for me. He controls my life. The only thing that matters now is what he thinks. Once I got over the hump, I stopped worrying about what others think, and I felt so free and happy. My life got so much better.

But reaching that point takes a lot of trust, and I know that most people can’t trust that much in another person. It took me a year before I could do that.

Yes, this life is not for everyone, but it’s what I wanted, and I am so lucky to have found a man wanting to take on the responsibility of training this slave.

So I hope that helped.

Thank you for reading

I am always open to questions and love to read your comments.