Filling the Void - From High to Sub

Filling the void -

from high-socialite to sub-human-

by Vitavie

Part 1 - Initiation

I left my life in the world over a year ago. A few months earlier, I met a man. His real name is of no concern. I am not sure if he ever told me his real name. Let's identify him as 'K.' A very impressive man. Handsome, of mixed European and Asian heritage. And commanding.

I needed a commanding man. I had made my fortune running a recruitment company, had sold it a year earlier and had travelled wherever my whims took me. Lived a high-society life. Had regular liaisons, which was nice enough, but I got bored. Few were a match to me. As it turned out, I was done dominating.

Years of running my company had exhausted me in that sense. Then I encountered K. At a cocktail party. We had a lively conversation and sensed that we could become good friends, as a minimum. Likely, friends with benefits, or even lovers, I thought.

For a long time, he held back. From our early meetings on, I would have gone and slept with him, had he suggested it, but, alas, he remained a gentleman. We did exchange phone numbers. It was I who called him, some two weeks after our first meeting. We agreed to have dinner together. We did, and did again, and again, and became friends. So some two handfuls of weeks passed.

Still he held back. I attributed his restraint to his Asian roots and appreciated his mysteriousness. Finally, again it was I that took the initiative and proposed that we sleep together. He smiled and said, 'I have been expecting this for a while. But no, not yet. I need to show you something first. If you then still want to sleep with me, I will be yours.' I returned his smile and said, 'I wonder what deformity or unpleasantness you hide.' 'It is not that, I can promise you. It is nothing to do with my body.'

I was well aware that I was running a risk when I consented to see what he had to show me. He could kidnap me for ransom, kill me for a serial killer's kicks. The truth is: I didn't feel I had anything to lose. What was the point of the life I was leading? Sure, I had enough money to pay for all the little and big pleasures that money can buy. I had lived on that basis for a year or so and was getting bored. So, I was game, assuming what he had to show me wouldn't kill me. I was bored, but had no death wish.

We still haven't slept together, in the strict sense. Maybe we never will.

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K has suggested I dress in eveningwear. I have chosen a jade-green ankle length dress, sleeveless with a bare back and spaghetti straps, with a high neckline. I have chosen simple white silk underwear and trimmed my pubic hair, put my long hair up high and did a fine make-up job, using green, orange and blue - yes, I still lived in hope...

He collects me from my hotel late afternoon. In a Bentley convertible. Talking about the pleasures that money can buy. K wears a tuxedo with white jacket, jade-green bowtie (how did he know?) and black trousers. He compliments me on my appearance, on the choice of dress.

'I hope I won't regret taking you up on your invitation, K. Your invitation remains a mystery. I will confess that I am curious.'

Another one of K's mysterious smiles. 'If I can judge people, women in this case, I know that what I will show you will suit you very well, Vita.'

Soon we have left the city and drive at leisurely pace through undulating countryside. It is a lovely day and the air is fragrant, full of nature's diverse aromas, full of - dare I say - promise. Time stands still, I dream away, for half an hour or so. Then we arrive at an ornate gate, which he opens electronically. It closes behind us.

Pretty soon a large complex of buildings reveal itself to us. At the centre is a large three-story building that must house a hall of sorts. It is surrounded by two-story sections and, further out, one-story pavilions. The complex appears to stem from colonial times, has aspects of a grand British house but pagoda-style roofs and Chinese accessories, lanterns, turrets etc.

A valet, a handsome young Chinese male, is waiting and K hands him the car keys. The valet calls him by his name. We enter a large lobby, furnished with Oriental furniture and adorned with evergreen potted trees and flower arrangements.

K and I are greeted by a further Chinese staff member who also addresses K by his name. 'We have been expecting you, Sir. Please follow me.'

We are led through a series of corridors and ultimately are shown into a dining room.

I gasp.

Seated around a large dining table are ten other guests. The shock is that half of them are bare-naked. The people who are dressed get up and come and greet us. K courteously introduces me, with compliments. Three of the men are gentlemen who wear tuxedos like K. The two dressed women are ladies in evening dresses like me. K introduces me to these five. He ignores the naked women and men, again three men and two women. They are obscene. And almost like animals. I am uneasy. I spot that a full dinner service is set only before the seven of us who are dressed. The naked five have what looks like a dog bowl before them.

Dear... What am I getting into?

The dressed persons are aged between forty and fifty, I estimate. K's and my age. The subs are not much younger, perhaps five years on average, the eldest clearly between forty and fifty. My age.

Before we are invited to sit down, each of the dressed persons call one of the naked individuals forward in turn. There is no easy link between the sexes of the dressed and the undressed. The naked ones are not introduced, but displayed. They first assume a position with feet apart, hands behind their heads, gaze cast down, so that their chests and abdomens are in full view. I note that one of the men and one of the women have hairless sexes. The man is entirely hairless, from top to bottom. He may have been handsome once. The other three have bushes, two of which are entirely unkempt and the third is neatly trimmed. After the first position has been assumed long enough for me to survey the body before me exhaustively, at a gesture by who appears to be their guardian, they turn around, bend forward and engage their hands to pull their buttocks apart. This way, their sexes and anuses are displayed. I feel their humiliation. Or have they hardened against such feelings? Would that be good?

I think I have a wide experience with naked bodies and sexual actions, but I have not had bare genitals offered to me so blatantly. Those of the hairless are pristine and obscenely visible. Those with the unkempt abdomens and perinea appear obscenely dirty. The labia are strange pink flowers of flesh in beds of dark hair like grass. The hairy scrotum is ample and crowned with a sizeable semi-erect cock.

The bodies of two, one man, the hairless one, and one woman, show clear marks of whipping or caning, I am not sure. The back and buttocks of the woman shows prominent welts. The man shows marks everywhere, except for his face and neck.

No explanation is offered by K or any of the others of what the score is. I have been around in the world enough to know that the party concerns a ring of dominants and submissives.

Is K a dominant? Did I not have an inkling? I fell for him because of his commanding stature...

After all five subs have been introduced in this way, I am invited to sit down at the table, and everyone follows. I note that the subs sit at the table too.

We are served good wine and a variety of tasty food and maintain polite conversation. Four of the five dominants are prominent men and women of business, like K is and I was, and the fifth is a supreme court judge. The elephants in the room are the submissives. They don't speak, are not addressed and get served a bowl full of some broth served with a big wooden ladle, which they eat directly with their mouths. Like dogs. Every so often their master or mistress wipes their mouths with their napkin, without emphasis, without a single word.

I have some experience with S&M, but not at this level. I have been tied up and fucked that way. I have been gagged and fucked anally. I have worn kinky lingerie and leatherwear. I have been slapped with bare hands. I have been the subject of a gangbang. All voluntarily, if it wasn't me who had taken the initiative in the first place. Once, I hired a dominatrix and paid for getting brutally whipped and been anally ravished by a fat dildo. Just once. The scene appears in my dreams from time to time.

I do contribute to the conversation, but experience spells where I am lost in thought. I think K notices. What are my thoughts, what my feelings? Do I want to join this gang of dominants? Will that be what K has seen in me?

When the meal is done and we are enjoying digestives, I cannot stay silent any longer and say, 'Thank you all for allowing me in your circle as a guest. I have to say, I am in a state of confusion. Who are these naked people? What are they? Why are they here?'

K speaks, 'They are intelligent professionals, or ex-professionals, who have identified as submissives. Slaves, to use plain language. Sex slaves, if you like, though there is a lot more than sex in the physical sense. Of the five former individuals - because they don't answer to that term anymore - three have left the world as they knew it, no longer engage in work or with 'vanilla' people. They are permanently - that is: if anything is permanent - permanently dedicated to their master or mistress. The other two are preparing for that step. They have jobs but spend their time outside work as submissives.'

'I have to ask... Do you have a slave, or slaves, too, K?'

'I don't at the moment.' And he leaves a barely noticeable pause. Does he propose I...? 'But we share the submissives and their services.

'I see you are puzzled. It is necessary to tell you that the slaves have entered this state of their own free will. They need the degradation, the humiliation, the suffering... Each of them to a different degree. Slaves are and remain human beings. Their state fulfils them, makes them grow. You can ask them if you like.

'Slave Martin, come here. He is the one of the ones who has left his profession and the world as he knew it and became a permanent and fulltime submissive.'

Martin is a Caucasian, fairly slender, but tall. He looks shocking... His body is hairless from head to foot. Very strange. Otherworldly. He appears so naked this way. His body, however, is covered in welts and scars, as if he is dressed in them. His sex is large, his scrotum, his flaccid cock, both in girth and in length - surely the largest set I have ever seen. His large cock is locked up in a chastity cage, which blatantly fails to hide its size. His eyes are downcast.

'He was a very high-powered lawyer, successful too, wealthy. Outside work, he became involved in the public BSDM scene that Judge X frequents, and gravitated towards the role of the submissive. He worked hard and played hard, until he got burnt-out and realised his life should be one of full, deep submission. It liberated him. His baldness reflects the distance he had to take from his former life, but was not his initiative. His hair has been removed permanently, not a single hair excepted. I was present for the day it took to remove the hair by a laser technique, the day after he formally submitted to Judge X. When he saw his reflection in the mirror, he ranted and raved like a madman. It is the only time I saw him emotional. He was brutally punished for his outburst. He since appears to have accepted it.'

Martin's gaze is still to the ground. He did not respond when K told his story. K taps at his chastity cage. 'Martin was a famous womaniser in his heyday. A legendary libido. A true ladykiller. Left carnage in his wake. As it stands, he has not been inside a woman for two years. The curved cage prevents him from getting erect. Mind that it was not the judge, but Martin himself suggested chastity. He has been chaste for over a year. He would probably identify as a heterosexual, but has accepted Judge X as his master. Since then his will has ceased and been replaced by the Judge's. Now, the strict regime of punishment... He is never without marks. The Judge decided that for him, to atone for his past life. And because he likes the look. And, he will admit, because he is sadist. But he lives by the golden rule: to maintain his subject's health. Same, for the hairlessness. He was a handsome fellow, complete with a stylish cut and jazzy beard. His mother would not recognise him. He has been compared to a monk. In the service of sex and us, his gods.'

I am not sure what I should feel. Anger? Surely, this man must have been brainwashed. Tears of compassion? He is hideous to look at. Womaniser no more. Yet I can imagine leaving the world. There are times I yearn for something else. High society been there, done it. But not this...

K looks at my pale face and does not offer any consolation or apology.

Adding insult to injury, one of the men comes up, undoes his fly and produces his member. Judge X pushes Martin forward and down to his knees. The slave gently strokes the men's cock until it is erect. Then blows the other man. He manages to deep throat him. I am impressed by the subtleness and the variability of the movements of his hands and lips, and presumably of his tongue. The man soon closes his eyes, raises his head high and moans with pleasure. The slave takes his time and drives the man up to sublime ecstasy. I will admit: I watch with fascination. With a resounding throaty cry, the man comes and after a brief pause pushes Martin away.

K smiles at me and says, 'I am glad you enjoyed this demonstration. Now, let us offer him to you for a moment, as welcome gift.' It is K that hitches up my dress, bunches it up and holds the fabric, to clear access to my sex. Do I feel compelled to grab my drawers and let them drop to my ankles? Or do I really want to? I do drop them. The slave wastes not a minute but digs in and sets to work. Oh! I too close my eyes and disappear to nirvana. His tongue and lips... Indescribable, so subtle... I feel his tongue everywhere, in and around my folds, the entry to my uterus and my clitoris, in a never-ending magical sequence. His work is nothing less than divine. Again, he must have taken his time - for me, his ministrations were timeless. And I too come once, twice with a guttural cry. Lord, what is happening...

In my dream state, I raise my drawers and K delicately lets go of my dress.

A few minutes later we take our leave.

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On the way back to the city, we discuss my impressions. 'Impressions' does not cover it. I was blown away by the confrontation with five degraded individuals - degraded consensually, so it seems. By seeing a male slave, said to be heterosexual, give a blowjob to another man. And perform cunnilingus on me. He understands my having been put off - by having to see these 'slaves' and especially being forced to be satisfied by the debased hairless man.

K's defence makes a sensitive impression.

'The thing is, whether by nature or by nurture, there are men and women who cannot be anything else but sex slaves. To say that they are happy to be so... Are monks in a closed order happy? I am sure happy is not the word. But certainly, they would be unhappy outside it.'

I confess to my confusion, if not irritation, concerning K offering Martin's service to me, without the option to say no.

'I am sorry, if I hurt your feelings. I imagine it will have something to do with him doing it, instead of me?'

'I am not sure if it does, really... Let me think... Why didn't you?'

'Our time will come. It won't be long now. But if your irritation was not based on that, on what was it?'

'Well, I didn't like being done in public, without warning.'

'However, it looked like you enjoyed it? And you did reach an orgasm or two? The fact that it happened in public did not kill them? Perhaps instead heightened them?'

'Yes! No! He was expert, it is true. But to orgasm in public? I should at least have agreed to that.'

'If I had asked, you would have refused. Correct?'

'Yes, probably.''

'The way that it happened, you can't deny that you were sent to heaven by the slave?'

'No, I can't deny it. It was divine. But I am in no position to confirm that the presence of others heightened it. I was horrified and then mightily aroused. In no state to judge the origins of how I climbed towards orgasm.'

'Precisely my point. And I was in a state to judge. I have seen it happen countless times.'

'Do I like where this is going? I just don't know.'

'But I guarantee you: you will know.'

He drops me off at my hotel with a kiss on my cheek. He did not take me to his home or does not offer to come to my room.

I masturbate in a confused haze of a dream. Reach a few orgasms, as in a dark fairytale, of a maiden held in a castle with triple towers.

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He calls me again a few days later.

'Should I be sorry I took you? I hope I have not turned you off my company. On my part, I am happy you allowed me to show you a glimpse of my world. It is not everyone's cup of tea, but I rated you higher. I am sure you masturbated the minute you got to your room.'

I ignore this last comment and answer his question. 'I was shocked. I can't believe this kind of life is ever consensual.'

He pauses. I hear him breathe.

'I think you confuse consensual with easy. A slave's life is hardly easy. But it is fulfilling to some. And inevitable. We can all psychologise about why a slave is or becomes a slave. Poor attachment to the parents, victim of child abuse. Or years of acting over and above one's power, like a commander that was essentially born a follower. Or like Martin, who simply depleted his lady-killing powers and was done, shed his cocoon and transformed into a submissive. I am not a psychologist, but I have seen the pupating several times. By now, I believe my intuition can tell a slave from a mistress or master in the bud. Of course true masters or slave fit for the life are rare. Most people are neither.'

I find myself uneasy.

'I see... And what am I?

'I think you ought to try and have a guess yourself...'

'I believe you are grooming me...'

'Well... Did our visit turn you on? Be honest...'

'It moved me, that I can say.'

'Let me say it straight. I believe you are a bit like Martin. Bored with your life, done after a life of commanding your business. You are bored with living the socialite life... You are bored with leading and want to follow...'

'That does not make me like Martin...'

'In the final analysis that is up to you. But do you know yourself? Do you belong in the sea or on the beach? Can you tell without dipping your toe in the sea?'

I sigh. Dipping me toe...

'I had never suspected it would come to this. Let me be frank this time. What I had suspected was that we would come together, we would sleep together and at some point be on our way again.'

'Oh, I am attracted to you, Vita. I just had the sense that you might be destined for more than just a common affair.'

I don't know what to say. He is right that I am bored with my life as it is. Perhaps I do desire oblivion, the total lack of responsibilities. Perhaps I want to be sex, live sex.

'Come to me now and fuck me. I need that. Fuck me like a Master. Then we'll talk some more.'

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An hour later, he is adjusting his clothing. He has fucked me. Like a Master. With authority. I have to grant him that.

He obtained access to my room of his own accord, without me having to let him in. In no uncertain terms, but without raising his voice he instructed me to strip naked. Should I be surprised that I complied? He told me to lie down on the bed and tied my hands together and to the headboard, and my ankles to the left and right bedposts at the foot of the bed. Without hurry, confident and calm. I cooperated. No, he did not immediately enter me, roughly and readily. He made me ready by ever so slowly, painfully slowly, excruciatingly slowly stroking my areolas, delicately flicking my nipples, stroking my flanks with his full hands, up and down, the outside of my thighs and calves, the top of my feet, massaging my feet for a while, then repeatedly stroking the inside of my legs, my thighs, so near to my sex, repeatedly, repeatedly, before ruffling my bush, then finger stroking my labia majora, including the perineum in the circuit, stroking in-between the majora and minora, finally deeming my clitoris worthy of his touch, which had started to reveal itself from underneath its hood, and softly making me come once - a long enough pause - twice and thrice... Only then he dropped his trousers and in a decisive, firm but not too harsh a way entered me and fucked me with long strokes until he let out a mighty roar and came. Nothing moved for what may be a minute, during which I felt his cock grow limp again and I looked up at his face and closed eyes - the face of god, there is no other word - me highly content and he... well, satisfied.