I could hear the voices in the other room somewhere in the house but I couldn’t tell what they were saying. Muffled and low it seemed like they were having conversation but then once in awhile I could hear thumping, like the sound of furniture being moved around. I wondered who they were and it seemed that they only came on this day of the week, always in the middle of the night.
I still wasn’t sure what day it was or even what time it was, but on the nights they came he wouldn’t come for me. About 4 times a week he would come in and put the blindfold on me first and take me out into the house, down some stairs into a large bathroom. A huge round black bathtub was in the center of the carpeted room, raised up on a pedestal, the faucet was gold (Victorian style). There were towels and soap and shampoo already set on the sink countertop that ran along one wall. The tub would already be filled and first he would direct me into it and then he would remove his own clothing, step into the tub and bathe me slowly making sure not to miss an inch. After he was done he would direct me to bathe him; and I would. The blindfold now removed I studied every inch of him. He was tall -- maybe 6 foot 4 -- a good 225 pounds at least maybe more, but lean -- all muscles and well defined. I could tell that he worked out often and took good care of himself. His hair was long (shoulder length) and with a wild uncombed look but not straggly. He was masculine. His face was smooth with boyish features; but when I looked into his eyes I could tell that without a doubt, he knew exactly where he had been and where he was going. They were deep and blue with so much spirit, dominance. It used to be so appealing to me; but I felt like a child when I was around him, all of the things I knew before, all of the things I stood up for and believed in, they all seemed so irrelevant now.
All I needed were his words. I waited for his visits, his commands. All I needed to remember now was everything he was teaching me -- the ways I could please him and what he liked. I belonged to him now and anything that I thought was important to me back then didn’t exist along with all of the information that used to fill my head all the time. Anyway, these were my favorite times with him. I was allowed to remove my cuffs and collar and move freely about the tub as I carefully took the washcloth and bathed him, adoring him and wishing that I could stay beside him always.
I wondered where he went during the days the house was silent and if he had other slaves somewhere in this big house. I was thinking not considering the number of nights he spent with me but still, had he done this before. The months we spent conversing online seemed like a dream. He was nothing like I thought he would be, but magnificent all the same. He was quiet, reserved, and when he spoke it was with a directness that sent chills through me. I froze in my tracks many times and settled onto my knees, head bowed, awaiting his next command.
When the bath was over I would carefully dry him and then slowly we would replace my cuffs onto my wrists and ankles, and last but not least, my collar all snugly secured with their shiny little locks. The blindfold was always on when we left this room and he was careful not to let me see any other parts of the house. Through one area though, on our way back up, I could smell lilacs, and through another incense. Jasmine, I think it was. Without my sight I found my other senses extremely acute. My hearing (sometimes he would test me and whisper) I obeyed. And when he kissed me I often felt like my feet were off the ground. Suspended there attached to nothing but his mouth; or laying there at one with him and the energy he projected.
At first he seemed so cold; much colder than I had anticipated. He was like a predator who had finally caught his prey. Everything had worked exactly like he had planned. I wondered how long he had been studying me and planning this. I had no reason to believe that he had lied about any of the things we talked about. But now that I was with him in his presence, he had a lot less to say it seemed. But I remembered those nights and the conversations. I seemed to captivate him immediately as well as my own interest grew and as time passed I wanted him more and more. I looked back at my life before my desire. It seemed so empty.
How could I have lived for so long without belonging this way to someone? It was beyond me. I wondered if they were looking for me, Achim my manager, Floyd my best friend, or Rik my part time boyfriend who never seemed to get enough of me. I knew it had been months since I vanished and hoped that they understood that wherever I was, it was where I wanted to be. It was not uncommon for me to spontaneously take off on road trips to unknown destinations with people I had barely known. Fly off to Cali or Florida or New York with an invitation to meet yet another fan of my beautiful pictures. I was fearless that way. I knew it. And recognized that it blinded me but still it never stopped me. I loved the adventure. I loved the people. I loved being treated like a princess wherever I went and being a fantasy girl for hundreds of men online. The image I’d created wasn’t that far from the real me and so it was easy to live out the repercussions from it. I remember still trying to figure out what I wanted. Still trying to decide where I wanted to end up. With so many choices it seemed I was never interested in any of the men. And even if I did meet one, the odds that I would see him that way were very slight. I just wanted to kick it.
But then this one came and changed everything, and I went, willingly. At first it was a shock but in all of my stories I always talked about being taken, being restrained, blindfolded. This was exactly the way I wanted it ideally in my mind. And I just craved him more. The more time I spent here the less I missed any part of my life before. And all the things I expected would one day come true when I totally gave myself over to a man were. I never expected it to be like this. But how else could it be? I was his and there wasn’t anything that could keep me from what I knew I was born to do and be. Not today, not ever. Even on the nights he would hurt me by restraining me completely and then using one of the floggers or whips on my backside until I was in tears. I still never hated him. I endured them for him. The gift I knew he needed that day to be ok. After he was done and I was collapsed on the floor, he would swoop me up and take me into my room, lay me down, looking over me. Sadness in his face. Like he didn’t understand but wanted to... wanted to be sorry for hurting me. On these nights, he would lay with me, his head on my stomach, and as I cried away the pain, gently stroking his hair. We would sleep. Always when I woke up, he was gone. That was the worse part of it -- waking up in an empty bed. Part of the reason I often stayed up before. Now at least I was in a safe place. I felt safe. And the dreams Id always had for so long that haunted me were nearly gone. Now I dreamed of his face and of a fog surrounding me completely; and I couldn’t see at all but I could tell it was just him. Consuming me. And it was ok.