Diary of a Contracted Slave

We talked about the incident once she'd calmed me down. I explained how I'd expected to feel the lash of her whip or the sting of the paddle, and she stood with a stony expression when I told her how many punishments and tortures my other owners had given me. She looked more and more downcast as I related all the things I'd been expecting from her. I realised as I talked that my words were hurting her -- she must have thought I thought she was just like all the other mistresses. I went for the direct approach

"But you're not like them, are you?" I asked, dropping her honorific to make the point.

"You weren't sure?"

"I'm sorry. Really, I am. I'm sure now, more sure than I've ever been."

"All right then."

In bed that evening, she had me worship every part of her body from her toes right up to the top of her head. I started with languorous kisses to her feet, which made her shiver all over, then I licked her toned carves and her powerful thighs. She called me a tease as I kissed all around her pussy, which she keeps covered in a full bush that smells to me like power and sex and divinity, and then she called me a slut as I licked her perfect arse until her breathing quickened.

With her hand on her clit, she had me kiss up her back, bit by bit, then I turned her over and she pleasured herself while I planted kisses on her flat stomach, all the way up to her erect nipples, then past them and on to her neck, which drew little moans of pleasure from her throat that I felt on my tongue. I stopped a while when I reached her lips, and she came while I kissed her deeply. I knew my orders, so I made sure to finish with kisses to her scalp while she rode out the last of her orgasm, which earned me a reward of an orgasm by her warm, strong hand that she gave me lying alongside me, once she'd chained me to the bed.

Day 206

Mistress Kerry decided to spank me today. She dressed in the same jeans and top that she wore the first day I met her, and had me over her knee while she sat on a chair in the cabin's big living room. It was a maintenance spanking, just an owner's way of reminding her slave what he is, rather than a punishment, but that didn't stop her putting plenty of force into it. My bottom burned red after just a few minutes, but my mistress was relentless in her discipline and I must have stayed bent over her knee, with my arse up in the air, for a long half hour while she hit me again and again.

She ordered me into the living room corner and had me kneel, facing the wall, there to think about my slavery while she got busy writing. My knees started to ache after a while, and I realised Mistress had quite forgotten I was there, awaiting her order to move. I had no choice but to remain there, with my legs apart and my hands on my head, like the good and obedient slaveboy I wanted to be for her. The pain in my legs grew from an ache to a white-hot agony, and I bit back my cries and whimpers until one slipped out and Mistress turned to me.

The look on her face showed me she thought -- knew -- she'd done something wrong, but a good owner can't apologise to their property, so she stood a while wondering what to do, then ordered me into the bedroom to lie face down on the bed. There she chained me in a spread-out star, then without a word she lubed up a strapon and climbed on top of me. Her fingers threaded through my collar and she penetrated me from behind, then laid her bare chest down on my back and covered my head with her long, fragrant hair.

She slid one hand under me, to hug me tight, while the other kept hold of my collar, and she fucked me slowly. I gasped when she set the strapon to emit stim pulses, and I groaned my way towards a helpless slave orgasm as my owner penetrated me again and again, every thrust like a gift from the Goddess herself. My orgasm wasn't enough to make her stop, and she held me even tighter until I'd had a second, which washed away all the pain and worry of the spanking and the corner-time. Her fingers caressed my hair, and her cock stayed inside me, making me feel helpless and owned and complete. She even found an excuse to cook me dinner -- I don't think a woman's ever cooked for me before.

Day 209

We settled into a pattern, Mistress Kerry and I -- she writing and I silently busying myself seeing to her needs, which don't tax me to take care of. I'm going to like it here. It's so hot here that my nanites barely ever kick in to warm me, and it's so quiet, that I can finally be alone with my thoughts. It took me by surprise when Mistress Kerry asked me how I'd like to spend my time, and she laughed her clear, beautiful laugh when I told her I wanted to walk the landscape and get to know it. Apparently that's fine, so three days a week, I'll set out on walks and see what there is to see. The only trade off is that I have to write her a description of what I find. She wants to see the island through my eyes, she says.

Day 220

We took a rowboat across the crystal water and made our way, just the two of us, to a secluded beach on a tiny islet, which let us face out to the ocean, hidden away from the main island where we live by a sandy hill covered in seagrass. I massaged Mistress Kerry's naked body while she asked me questions about being a slave. What it was like, what it felt like, how it was to have someone change your name -- did it change your identity to?

I couldn't quite answer that one. Everything an owner does to me refines me or twists me. With my first two owners, I was always in a spin, never quite fitting into the dynamic that their household depended on. They brought out the slave in me, but they didn't truly need or cherish me. They used me, just like my previous mistress had when she'd made me her Fucktoy. At least she was honest about it. But with Mistress Kerry? I feel naturally hers. She went very quiet when I told her that, then she drew me down to the ground and we made love, over and again, until I barely had the energy to row us home.

Day 221

We met some of Mistress Kerry's friends, who came up the volcano's side in a gaggle of mostly naked flesh, clearly at home in the warm air and hot sun. There were three free-women, a slavegirl and a slaveboy in the group, and I set out table and chairs outside the cottage, with a full spread of food and drinks. I made it so the table was in sight of the hot spring that sits near the cottage, and we spent the day moving between the two.

The slaveboy and slavegirl came to join me in the hot spring while the free-women took a walk around the volcano side. The slaveboy was young, almost fresh from the grouphome where he'd lived until turning eighteen, and he was doing the classic year-in-slavery that a lot of men like him use to kill time and earn a little money before they made any real life decisions. He looked healthy, relaxed, but a little awkward and uncertain.

The slavegirl turned out to be one of Mistress Kerry's oldest friends. They'd been free-women together at university some fifteen years before, when Sweetness -- that was her slave-name -- had been diagnosed with slavery denial disorder and enslaved for two years. She'd never looked back, and was now the lifelong slave-wife of one of the women they were visiting with, an older mistress with a beautiful curvy body called Sanna. She told me all about what Mistress Kerry had been like at university -- Sweetness had still finished her degree, just as a slave -- and we laughed at their bizarre youthful exploits.

When our mistresses returned, the slaveboy's two owners offered him to Mistress Kerry, but she declined. They seemed surprised, until she beckoned me over to where she sat and started to kiss me. Then they just smiled, real warmth and love there on their faces, and got their slaveboy to come entertain them while Sanna and Sweetness just lay in the hot spring and watched.

Mistress Kerry never offered my body or my 'services' to her friends, and they offered her their slaves a few more times each. She turned the slaveboy down flat, but there was something that it seemed Sweetness really needed from her. Kerry looked at me, raised an eyebrow almost imperceptibly. I was shocked to realise she was asking me permission, then overjoyed. Our connection was real and she respected it. That was enough for me. I nodded, just a little.

Mistress Kerry turned her attention to Sweetness. She had the slavegirl kneel on the ground before her, then she ordered Sweetness to masturbate while the slavegirl explained, over and over, how she was inferior to the other free-women there, and how happy that made her. Once Sweetness had panted out a cute little orgasm on the ground, Mistress Kerry took her old friend over her knee and gave her a sound spanking until the slavegirl cried grateful tears.

We all returned to the hot springs after that, and it was well past midnight when our guests left to return down the volcano, where an air-taxi waited to take them to their hotel. Mistress Kerry and I cleaned up together, then we flopped down into her bed and let the exhaustion take us. Her skin was beautiful, rich and warm against mine.

Day 240

We've had no more guests for a while, but today was the global Festival of Matriarchy, and so Sweetness and Mistress Sanna came to join us for the festivities. As the festival requires, Sweetness and I were completely naked, and decked out in chains and shackles that made our status overpoweringly obvious. Kerry lubed up a buttplug and slipped it inside me, then she activated it, making it grow so large that it felt like my insides might burst. She picked up the long chain connected to my collar, and led me carefully down the volcano until we found ourselves in the thronged town square, squeezed in tight with all the other naked slaves and their clothed owners.

We watched the festivities unfold together, her hand always tight on my leash or resting on my backside to let everyone know she was my owner. Sanna and Sweetness were the same, inseparable, at peace together. There were shows of slave dancing, of whipping and fucking, and a ceremony where three new priests of the Matriarchy received their ceremonial collars and then were raped by a High Priestess with her ceremonial strapon and cutting whip.

Mistress Kerry took us all on a tour of the island on a ponyboy-pulled cart, and I admired the grace that the two stallions showed under her lash. I sat next to Kerry on the front seat while Sanna and Sweetness played together in the back. It was enough for me to just be with Kerry, to let her guide my day and my life, and to let her dictate the order of the day.

We ate lunch as part of a massive picnic, then we took part in the Great Facesit, where millions of mistresses across the world facesat their slaves at the same time. Mistress Kerry's hairy pussy on my tongue tastes better than even the finest, sweetest picnic, and I kept licking her long after she came just to savour her being there.

After that, we watched some punishments in the town square, but they weren't doing much for any of us, so we queued up for the fucking benches, and Mistress Kerry took out my buttplug and then strapped me down, before violating me with a ceremonial strapon. Its stim pulses were set to drive me wild but not let me cum, and I was a panting, horny mess by the time she was done with me.

The festival went on in that fashion until we found ourselves on the beach, with a thousand other mistresses and slaves, all watching the sunset together and waiting for the festival to formally end. I'd told my owner about my fear of crowds and she held my hand to connect me to her; it was enough to make all the difference. As the sun got lower, Mistress Kerry cuddled up close to me, her hot flank warming me even more than the sand, so that everything felt right and good, and I knew I needed nothing more from life than this. She whispered into my ear.

"Kyanite, how about you extend your contract with me by one more full year, my darling?"

"How about two, mistress?" I whispered back.

She nodded and I kissed her sweet lips, savouring the taste and burning the memory into my mind.