I lived almost five years with Mistress Marsha. It was painful, it was harsh, it was without release for me, but lots of excitement for her. I had to work very hard without getting a ‘well done’, not even once, not even close. But it was also the best time of my life: she made me feel safe, she controlled my life, I had no worries, it was wonderful and an honor to live with a stunningly beautiful woman like her (too bad I was not allowed to look at her) and it was a privilege to worship and to serve her.
Almost three months ago she ordered me to kneel before her and to look at her. That made me scared.because the last time I did that was when we met and she told me never to look at her again.
She treated me as I could have expected. Not a word about appreciation, not a sign that she cared, no farewell, nothing. But I could not expect something like that of course. What I did for her was what I had to do. She expected nothing less. I was an object, a vacuum cleaner, nothing more.
She told me she wanted me to leave and that I had to leave within the hour. She didn’t give a reason and I knew I wouldn’t get any. I didn’t need to know in her eyes. Worms know nothing, that’s how it is.
I could take the few personal belongings I still had. And she opened by bank account for me again. She had taken some money for stuff she had to buy for me, canes and cuffs and a cage, stuff like that, but the rest was mine again. She didn’t want that. ‘I am not a thief’ she said.
Of course I did not beg or cry. That would have been useless. And when I left the house, for the first time in almost five years, she wasn’t even there. It was futile for her. That’s the life of a slave but nevertheless it made me sad.
So no goodbyes.
I lived on the street the first time but soon found a house and bought some stuff to furnish it and there I was. No Mistress, no goal, no one to serve and all kinds of decisions I had to make. I wasn’t used to making decisions anymore.
But most of all I felt lost, useless and deserted. And I did what quite a lot of men do in that situation: I started drinking. At home but also in pubs. I sat there, alone, got a little drunk, often a lot, talked to no one and went home more desperate than I came.
One afternoon (yes, allright, it was a little early) I ordered my seventh double whisky when I felt that someone was looking at me. I looked around and saw this woman.
I hated her stupid hair and her closed legs and the way she looked at me. In fact she didn’t even look at me. She observed me and she wanted something. And somehow I felt like she watched like the cat watches the mouse, ready to have some fun.
Of course I wasn’t used to dealing with women anymore so I couldn’t act at all. I just felt nervous and getting more every minute..
At the same time I felt a strong urge to go to her and kneel for her. It was a strange idea. Kneeling was something for Mistress Marsha. I didn’t think I could kneel before a strange women. And I wasn’t Mistress Marsha’s slave anymore. I could not imagine serving another Mistress and I certain was not looking for a new Mistress. How could I? It didn’t feel well.
I think she saw my uncertainty, my struggle, my shyness and even my submissive nature. And she waited patiently. Thinking back later, she was sure that I would come to her. And that is aways better than to order some one to be your slave. Obviously.
I suffered, teased by contradictory thoughts and considerations. I struggled and struggled and didn’t see a good escape. I was attracted by her, drawn into the heat like a moth but still had my inflexible fidelity towards Mistress Masha. She didn’t want me anymore, I knew that of course, but I didn’t really feel it. So what could I do?
When I looked at the woman for the 1000th time, and saw she still was looking into my eyes, she nodded. Hardly visible but unmistakable. That pulled me over the edge.
"All you have to do is kneel, and I will take care of you." Her smell was an afrodisiac. No sign of perfume, it was just her. It didn’t arouse me but it was overwhelming and good. Her voice was soft and in a certain way even gentle, but also compulsory and yet it didn’t make me shy or nervous. Her clothes seemed new and were stylish. Her makeup was hardly visible but it did every possible positive thing for her face.
She kept looking at me, patiently waiting, no doubt seeing the struggle in my mind.
But she smiled when I kneeled before her, bowing my head.
I didn’t even ask what ‘taking care’ meant. I trusted her to teach me everything I need to know.
I will never forget Mistress Marsha. My new Mistress (Yvonne) could not be more different. She punishes harder (I didn’t think that was possible, but it is) but she also rewards. Last week she even let me sleep with her. Her feet were cold and I needed to warm them but she did have me in her bed. I was in bed for the first time in many years.
She really takes care of me. She make me free and safe. And in return I will do anything to please and comfort her.