Full Rigor Pt. 02

"I'm glad you're home on time, Sweetheart," Shirley greeted him. "Ordinarily, I'd ask you how your day went, but I think you're going to just love what Michelle is planning to do to herself."

*****

(Shirley Holmes' experience)

When Michelle told me she planned to enslave herself and actually ASKED me to top her husband because she wouldn't be able to do so for a year, I almost climaxed on the spot. I don't have any hidden animosity towards Michelle and Richard--in fact, they're fun people socially while still being two of my favorite sex toys for a BDSM scene. Moreover, I'd be astonished if George objected to my committing a form of adultery with Richard. George and I had a long-standing BDSM agreement, but I love the guy too much to do something like that if it would really hurt him inside. Still, I thought the Harkins and the Holmes were about to have a great year together! Or at least Richard and I would--the two slaves would have to just live with it.

Once Michelle left, George and I had an even more surprising conversation. As I closed the door after watching Michelle leave, I immediately started talking [a bad habit that is reinforced by his submission to me.]

"Don't tell me," I said to George, who was still kneeling where he had posed upon coming home. "You've talked to me for years about the possibility of becoming a true slave. It's like Michelle stole your idea."

"It's more than that, Mistress--this is the second sign I've had today that I can finally live out that dream."

I always tried to let him de-stress by talking about work, so of course I encouraged him to continue. "Was today your quarterly performance review?"

George: "It was, and as far as I'm concerned it was great news, but I don't know how you'll feel. I more than made my quotas and the CEO gave me a nice bonus, but then he told me that the company was restructuring, eliminating my whole office here. So, he offered me a choice. On the one hand, I could move to Oklahoma City to take over another division."

I groaned, "NOT a good idea--quite apart from the hassle of moving, it would ruin my practice. But, I can tell by your grin that you think the other choice is much better, so what is it?"

George replied promptly. "The CEO already knew that I didn't want to move. He wanted to keep me, but needed to settle the question quickly, so he offered an incredible severance package: a year's salary, doubling my stock holdings in the company, and paying my health insurance until I'm eligible for Medicare. Can't get much better than that."

I stared at him. "So, what did you tell him?"

George, smiling: "Even if I weren't your property, I know better than to make such a choice without discussing it with my wife. I said I'd call him back tomorrow with an answer. If it were up to me, of course, I would take the severance pay, which would free me to become..."

I finished the sentence, "My indentured servant under the law. No wonder you were grinning when Michelle told you of her plans--you want to enslave yourself along with her, right?" He nodded vigorously, trying to suppress his grin.

I exhaled in a low whistle. "Darling, I know this is a life-long dream of you, and I don't want to stand in your way about this, but we need to have a long talk while you're wearing clothes. [This was a symbol we occasionally used when we needed to set aside out D/s relationship and decide something as married partners.] I suspect that, if you retire early, you'd get bored just sitting at home pretending to be my property, but the reality could be so much worse. How will you feel if I continue my career and just use you as a servant?"

I paused and then continued. "Let me throw out another issue: If you're my slave, you won't have much say about sex for either of us. I know you have some fantasies of submitting to another woman or even a man at my command, but the reality could be pretty tough."

I took a swig of coffee, then tried to plant some thoughts for him to consider. "Up until now, I've always tried to give you as much pleasure as I got, and I've never had sex with a BDSM partner if I thought that would hurt your feelings. But, if you're a slave for a year or even longer, there are going to be times when I hire you out to other people, and I MIGHT even get so horny that I had sex with other people without your knowledge. For example, if you and Michelle enslave yourselves at the same time, Richard and I might fuck each other and leave our two slaves frustrated."

"Michelle's husband, Richard, talked to me about what she was planning to do." I added. "You know that he's a lawyer, right? He pointed out that slavery for a married person is like a temporary divorce in which the free spouse gets ALL the property, including the slave's body, while the slave loses all rights and freedom. Again, you know I love you, but you may not like the decisions I make."

I tried to end more positively. "Anyway, I didn't mean to be so negative about your great news. By all means retire if you want to. Will you promise me to talk to both Michelle and Richard about their plans? Richard insisted that Michelle consult with Nikki Sheldon, that slave psychiatrist who's married to Paul at the club. If you're serious about enslaving yourself, you need to check out Nikki and any other resources they've found, OK? Now--enough talking. Go bend over the horse in the playroom; all this talk of slaves makes me want to work off a little energy with a flogger and a nice, fat strap-on." I hope my smile reduced the severity of that final order--I don't get much enjoyment out of inflicting major pain, especially on my husband. Maybe a little when he's been a bad boy, but that's very rare. Mostly, the discipline part is a symbolic expression of my power over him, just like pegging his cute butt.

*****

(George Holmes' experience)

I'll spare you the details of how I researched and prepared for indenture. Once I talked to Richard and Michelle, I found that the two couples were talking in the same terms, with the dominant partner very concerned about the effects of slavery while the submissive partner remained determined to pursue the goal. I even used the same shrink and law firm (with a different attorney) that Michelle talked to, and the four of us freely exchanged ideas. Master Rich and Mistress Shirley repeatedly told us that they had every intention of lending us out to each other as well as to other friends. As a workaholic who had long been my wife's submissive at home, this possibility didn't bother me TOO much--I had few friends to whom Shirley could expose me, and my parents were both deceased. Yeah, I would feel humiliated to serve Shirley's friends, but humiliation was part of the thrill for me, especially if that humiliation would please my Mistress. As for Michelle, like me she was a little terrified but majorly THRILLED by the chance to abase herself, being exposed to her friends as a naked slut.

Ultimately, practical considerations such as the ownership of two homes and disposition of our joint property convinced Michelle and me to limit our indenture to 400 days each, although when our spouses were not around she and I freely admitted that we were considering another term of bondage sometime in the future. We also agreed to the one month/twelve months formula that Richard had proposed--at the end of one month's enslavement, each of us would have to consult with Nikki and then announce whether we were prepared to handle full slavery--if we didn't object, then it was off to a slave market followed by an unknown future in which our owners might hire us out for longer periods, up to the end of our indentures. There was nothing legally binding about this option, of course--once we signed at the start, we had no rights. Our owners were free to sell our full 400-day contracts to anyone they wished and ignore us for that time, but we were both confident in the love of our marriages. Besides, our owners would just have to find two other sluts to serve them!

I don't know about the Harkins, but for the Holmes, the last weekend before the self-indenture was surprisingly vanilla. For once, we went out to a restaurant without my wife ordering me to wear some device or lingerie under my clothes. We had a nice dinner and made slow, gentle love as equals. Afterwards, Shirley whispered how much she loved me, and asked for forgiveness in advance because she would treat me differently as a slave. I realized then that I was looking forward to all the experiences of enslavement and subjugation but was still worried that fulfilling my dream might damage our marriage. Perhaps I should have settled for the D/s relationship we already had, or compromised on a Free In Name Only contract? Oh, well--I really couldn't back out now. Not only would quitting mean giving up my dream, but it would disappoint Michelle, who had come to view me as a fellow explorer/sufferer.

Monday, January 4, was the agreed-upon date for our indenture/enslavement. Shirley drove us to the law firm so that I could execute the various legal plans I had made. We saw Michelle and Richard in the reception area, waiting to see Michelle's lawyer for a similar errand. Then Shirley followed Richard's pick-up truck to the nearest office of the Livestock and Slave Division for the Texas Department of Agriculture. The bed of that truck contained two metal shipping cages of the type used to move large dogs and human slaves. Clearly, Rich intended to give his new slave a real experience once she indentured herself. Wait a minute--TWO cages? I looked at Shirley, who must have read my mind. She grinned evilly and remarked, "Yup--you get the full slave experience, complete with transport suitable for poodles, except that Master Richard will play the part of the express driver. Be careful what you wish for..." I shivered--this day was going to be even more fantastic and excruciating than I had imagined. "Thank you, Mistress."

She touched my leg affectionately. "I've been your Mistress for years but remember that for the next year I'm also your owner and every free adult is your Master or Mistress. I'd hate to see you punished for forgetting something obvious. OK, Sweetheart?"

With renewed confidence in her love, I repeated, "Yes, Mistress!"

Despite this, I almost lost my nerve when we actually parked a block away from the state government building. Shirley gave me a brief but passionate kiss and told me, kindly but firmly, to get out of the car. The other couple were waiting for us on the sidewalk. As we approached the front door of the office building, it occurred to me that this would be the last moment in which I would be free for the next 400 days. Sensing a hesitation, the two prospective owners each grabbed their partner's hand and firmly guided that partner into the building and onto the elevator. Richard had checked out the route in advance, and confidently pushed the button for the fourth floor of the building, the Livestock and Slave Division.

If you've read other accounts of the new slavery in Texas, you're familiar with the layout of these offices in major cities: a seemingly-endless corridor dividing a large Dilbert farm of cubicles and leading to the local chief's office. That office has glass walls so that, unless the chief lowers his/her venetian blinds, what happens inside is visible to everyone around. This, I'm sure, is by design, to heighten the sense of exposure of new slaves at the moment they abandon their freedom and their clothing.

Another part of the procedure was to remind the new slaves that they were losing all their rights and even their status as human beings. Once Shirley and Richard told the secretary that Michelle and I were here for our appointments to self-indenture, the secretary visibly sneered at the prospective slaves and studiously talked only to the prospective owners. After 10 or 15 minutes during which my heart raced, the four of us were called into the office of the local division chief, whose nameplate read "Harold Robbins." Thanks to Richard laying the groundwork, Mr. Robbins was aware of the unusual circumstance that two soon-to-be-former-people were self-indenturing to their spouses at the same time. Robbins read through the records carefully, asking Michelle and then me to confirm our intention to self-indenture to our respective spouses for 400 days each. Michelle's response was firm yet excited, while I had to struggle past the lump in my throat. Two civil servants appeared as witnesses and aligned a video camera to record the transaction.

"Okay," said Mr. Robbins. "Who wants to go first?"

"Ladies first," replied my wife, gesturing to Michelle, who quickly sat down in front of the camera. Her eyes were sparkling and she kept smiling the whole time. Prompted by Mr. Robbins, she smoothly read the certificate:

"I acknowledge that I am indenturing myself of my own free will, under Texas Civil Code, Chapter 5 Conveyance, 5.309.2, indenture, for a period of 400 days. During this period, I convey ownership of my title and surrender all civil rights to the Richard X. Harkins Trust, its heirs and assignees. This indenture is irrevocable."

The mind makes strange leaps under stress. It suddenly occurred to me that, if Richard were to die during the next year-plus, Michelle would be the legal property of her 18-year-old twins. Think how that would go down when they had to sell her at auction to settle the estate. Then I wondered who would inherit me if my beloved Mistress passed during the same year? Things I should have asked before this. Knowing her, I would become the property of her medical practice corporation!

As soon as Michelle finished speaking, she signed the self-indenture in a rush, and Mr. Robbins ran the document through a small machine that embossed the Texas star on it. He handed the completed form to Richard, who promptly took charge.

"You know what's next, darling--this is what you've always wanted, right? Get naked, cunt."

Michelle flushed but smiled broadly. "Yes, Master." She practically tore her clothes off, revealing that she wore no bra or panties under her button-front dress. Still blushing, she offered her dress to her new owner and then bent over, butt naked, to retrieve the flats she had worn into the office. She also handed them to Richard, but before she could even stand up fully to present herself as a slave, he stopped her with a one-word command, "Collar."

She dropped to her knees and held her long red hair away from her neck so that Richard could collar her. In our BDSM games, I had seen most or all of her body, but at the time I'd been bound and unable to focus. Now, the sight of this magnificent woman submitting to slavery was incredibly erotic, made even more so by the sense that I would join her in moments.

Before that happened, however, Richard had a surprise in mind. In rapid succession, he ordered "stand," "corner" (pointing at the near corner of Robbins' office) and "Present." She dutifully moved to face the corner of the room, spread her feet about shoulder width apart, and interlaced her fingers behind her neck, touching her new collar.

Ordinarily, sending a slave to a corner was a minor form of discipline, treating the fully adult un-person as if he or she were a naughty youngster who needed a "time out" by staring at the corner. Given the glass walls of the room, however, Richard had just put his slave wife on display, so that everyone in the cubicle farm--many of which were watching the familiar ceremony--could see her in full frontal nudity, a living sex object, until he released her from that position. The thought of being exposed to strangers like that was both humiliating and thrilling--the essence of submission for Michelle and me.

I had no time for such reflections, because Mr. Robbins was calling me to sit down and record my own statement. The actual process was a blur, using the same words that Michelle had just read except for giving myself to Doctor Shirley H. Holmes, Incorporated. Before I knew it, the documentation was completed, and Shirley was holding the certificate while she grinned like a Cheshire cat. From our previous BDSM scenes, I recognized that smile, a combination of sexual excitement and the thrill she felt of being in complete control. I reached for my belt and began undressing even before she triumphantly ordered me to "strip, honey."

Like Michelle, I had gone commando for the occasion, so I shucked off my shirt, loafers, and pants in a matter of seconds. I politely offered the discarded clothing to my new owner, who stuffed it all in a bag while ordering "collar" so that she could encase my neck. Before I had even adjusted to that new sensation, one of the government witnesses jerked my hands behind my back and secured my wrists with what felt like a zip-tie. As I stood up, buck naked and restrained, my pulse and breathing were already in high gear. Mistress Shirley proceeded to wrap another, smaller collar, with a leash attached, around the base of my genitals. My cock, which had been half-erect all morning, became as rigid as a steel rod. The whole process of losing my freedom and clothing was so overwhelming, so sensuously submissive, that I had to struggle to avoid ejaculating. It didn't help that I could hear Michelle having a rather noisy climax in the corner of the office. We were both off to a raucous yet erotic start in our 400 days of bondage.

(To be continued)