NSFW Author

Over the next following days, routine slowly settled in. I had started watching the movies. The video games, however, were quite old.

Fortunately, almost every day, Master would bring a new movie or two.

During the week, my master and I would eat breakfast in our dining room. He would then leave for work. I would clean a little, and then watch a movie or two, with the rest of the time before noon spent on reading or bathing (I had gotten the hang of working the controls of the bath).

At noon, I would wait to see if my master was coming, but most of the time he didn’t. Even when he did, we generally only kissed and said goodbye.

In the afternoon, I would tan naked on the balcony while reading a book. My skin was starting to be a nice tan color. I saw the gardener often. He saluted me from below. I doubt he could see that I am naked, but I didn’t care if he did, since Felicia probably did the same thing.

More often than not, I would eat the supper prepared by Kathryn via the food elevator alone, so I started to appreciate the rare time we did eat together, usually only on the week-ends.

Master was a really nice person. He never asked anything improper and truly respected me. Sometimes we would have sex before getting to bed, but more often, he was too tired to do so.

I didn’t understand myself however. I wanted something more… I desperately wanted him to dominate me. Locking me in this golden cage and forcing to become someone else wasn’t enough. I needed him to order me, boss me. Sometimes, he would understand my needs and whip me, but he generally did it half-heartily.

I never got the chance to learn what he did for a living nor to see what was behind the three doors at the end of the lobby.

However, one diner, he came running, and after a long search in his computer room, he opened the two locked doors of the corridor.

They contained boxes and boxes of papers, most similar to the slave files I had seen on his table the first day. After a few minutes of search, he grabbed for his briefcase a file and relocked the doors without even looking at me.

That evening had seemed promising: instead of coming back exhausted, he was triumphant. He admitted he had made a huge deal and as a reward to himself, he had made Katryn cook a delicious five service meal which we ate in the manor ball room outside his apartment. He had bought me a beautiful robe which truly seemed of the renaissance era. He himself had dressed quite nicely.

He even made Katryn dress up to look like a rich maid which seemed to irritate her even more than usual.

After the pleasant (and delicious) supper, he put some music and we danced together for a few hours, unless it was only a few minutes for it was so romantic that I lost the notion of time.

We eventually finished in his bedroom and made passionate and warm sex, with a surprising intensity for his age. We had started by kissing passionately for a few minutes but he was getting impatient and ripped apart my dress with a rage I had rarely seen in my life. I was wearing a beautiful white assorted lace-panties and half-bra, which supported my breasts, but hid little of them.

He was wantonly kissing my body everywhere, while caressing one of my breasts under the bra with a hand, and trying to finish undressing me with the other.

I helped him remove his shirt, undoing all the buttons with one movement of the hand, a technique learned at the academy. Rapidly, my bra popped open, and I dug my erect nipples in his bushy abdomen. His skin was warm and his hair was caressing my breast while I was trying to have him stand up so I could remove his pants. A few seconds later, we were both naked and rolling on the bed, while he was trying to penetrate me. I preferred playing a little with him. I grab his erect cock and held it firmly in my hand, preventing him from inserting me and therefore raising his desire. He dropped a hand lower, which I presumed was for liberating himself, but instead, jammed his finger inside me, bringing a wave, forget that, a flood of desire, and, I must admit, making me lose my grip.

Without hesitation, he removed his finger and before I could feel a loss, rammed me as deep as he could.

Stopping there would have probably brought any girl to orgasm, due to the intensity and the passion of the moment. But the evening was not over. My master then proceeded to rapidly and forcedly, yet rhythmically and passionately screw me for what I felt to be an eternity. My first orgasm was several minutes before he ended and powerful enough to last until my second much stronger one that came at the same time as he did, leaving both of us exhausted on the bed.

I thought he was having a heart attack by the sound he was making, but eventually he managed to come through and get back his breathing.

We feel asleep, and the next morning, he didn’t go working: His previous day was successful enough. We ate breakfast in the bed, both still naked, and did small talk like lovers do.

I should have liked it, but when he finally went working, I had a sense of lost. My usefulness as a lover was well proven. But as a slave, I still was un-tested.

And frankly, I was not dominated enough. Don’t get me wrong, I did like the sex. It’s just I would have preferred it differently. Maybe being ordered a little or even being forced to beg him to take me would have been enough. A simple insult or a few punitions would have made me happy. Hey, if he didn’t want to, forcing Katryn to whip my bare ass a few times would have made my day. I am sure that with all her frustrations, she would give a wonderful burning sensation. Geez, I am all wet just thinking about her and her beautiful cute little eyes.

There I go again. I became a class S slave to live a dream life of submission and excitement. But instead, I am excited by a dream of submission. What is wrong with me? I always liked playing a slave but I had not dreamt of being a sex slave. Only a few months ago in sex education class when I had to show my breasts, I had found it awful. A lot of the other girls were forced to strip naked and I had thought it would be terrifying.

Now, I see it as terribly erotic and exciting.

And yet today, I am alone again. No-one to even see me and even less, humiliate me. Even the gardener, the only human being I can see, can’t talk to me since he is too far away.

I can remember last Sunday.

I had begged Master to humiliate me a little and order me. His orders were quite limited. Clean this. Pick that. And his punitions feeble: For not being quick enough, two strokes. He never even accepted to can me, being too afraid to hurt me. After a lot of convincing (which takes all the fun out of it), he agreed to bind me, but the knots were not tight enough: I was never completely immobile and knew I could easily get out.

In other words, I was bored. I only had books and movies as company and I was getting tired of them anyway. Maybe I will start a therapy after I am through with this contract: probably by signing a contract to a whorehouse, maybe even to a sadist master. No, even better, a sado-masochism club as an absolute bottom: a girl anyone could order to do ANYTHING at all. I could live there and eat only when ordered to. I even heard that these girls were bound whenever not used. Geez, being forced to sleep naked, tied to a cross table… and liberated only to be ordered and punished. THAT would be a dream life.

Fuck, what it happening with me? Why am I thinking that? I must be getting crazy…