When I first met Master, I had a deep euphoric feeling that He was not another boyfriend but the man of my life. Possibly my husband, I thought at that early time (not knowing what a sub is...), though marriage certificate is not something I am really interested in. This guy was instantly ‘the’ Someone, someone who will make my life worth living, someone who will make me feel loved, protect me, will always be there for me. Someone I could define as the light of my life, the beat of my heart, the sun in my day and the stars in my night. That is how submission came so instantly and so naturally. When you love someone you want nothing more than for Him to be truly happy no matter what it takes because that's how much you care about Him and because His needs come before your own. Without Him, present or not, I felt incomplete. I was ready to please Him at anytime, in any place, under any circumstances. Very soon in our relationship, all my choices were based upon whether or not they will please Him.
I slipped naturally and very quickly into a complete sub behaviour, adopting the attitude Master was expecting without particular keynote speech from Him, mainly by myself. He would simply give here and there some guidance. Very soon He told me He would be pleased not to be referred to by His given name but to use “Master” to describe Him, and that He wished to be always addressed as “Sir”, unless under circumstances where these terms might cause people around us to be made uncomfortable. It could be difficult to understand, but the way it was said and the moment it came made it plain and straightforward, and since that day I’m using a capital letter for Him without having been instructed to do so. In the same way, as He is commanding respect, I would go as a matter of course to my knees with my hands on my thighs and my eyes lowered before Him when I am waiting for orders. Whenever He speaks I become silent when I am speaking. And so forth.
I was timid and shy in public (and to a large extent I am still so, which gives Master an easy playground to torture me). He made me change completely my behaviour by making me understand He wanted His girl to be provocative and appealing, to glow with sexual desire, in short to look and be slutty. I was not realising that a few weeks later I would not only look like a whore, but be a whore, a cock whore, the ultimate true slut.
He taught me very naturally manners of carrying myself in a ‘sexy’ way - translate ‘slutty’ - (“...It’s not a word, it’s an attitude ...”), and, as he has very definite preferences, He prescribed me a dress code I must conform to at all times. This is one of few exceptions to the “soft rules”, it is strict discipline. Needless to say I must wear short and tight dresses and skirts exclusively, high heels, etc, and I’ll come back to that, but one of His passions is for stockings. I must wear stockings and suspender belts (or garters, if you prefer), in and out of the house, except in a few cases when I get the permission in advance. I seldom ask for that kind of permission, as I know He is so happy to see the tops of my stockings bordering the bottom edge of my skirt. He really enjoys when my dress rides up my thighs and to see my embarrassment, and when I sit I am not allowed to cross my legs. On the contrary, I must slightly open my legs so He – or whoever is there in front of me – can peek under my skirt up to my panties. Trying to remain decent is a hopeless battle, the more if you know He buys Himself my undies, and all my panties are the next size down ... and transparent.
Slutty and exposed, that’s how He wants me to be, constantly. It is one of many ways to remind me, in public, surrounded by many, that I am owned, that I belong to Him, that I am His nasty piece of fuck meat, that I am here to please Him, to obey Him, to be His bitch in heat.
He also understood fast, to His greatest pleasure, that humiliation was turning me on. More humiliation and degradation was the next step, it came soon, uncontrollably.
I’ll tell you all about it in my next blog post.