Diary of a slave

For Cora and my colleagues at the Bunny School – It's a women's world!

Diary Of A Slave, Part 1

It was sunday, and I was permitted to accompany Milady on a pleasure trip. The beginning of the day did follow the usual (and reliable) pattern. After I got up without attracting attention and gave myself a quick wash, I went on to prepare the breakfast for Milady and raised her out of sleep by the common ceremony of kissing her feet. I attended her morning toilet on my knees, and was even allowed to hand her a towel. Afterwards, I served her the breakfast all naked and made sure to stay in the background while doing so. I already knew for quite some time that my mistress did not want to be disturbed at this time of the day, so that she could read the newspaper and answer the text messages on her mobile phone without ruffle or excitement. Some of these text messages came from her friends while, according to her, others were sent by various flings. She smiled from time to time while reading her text messages, which gave me this well-known tingling sensation that wasn't completely inconvinient after all. But at the same time, I also felt the hurtful sting of jealousy.

It seemed that she came across an interesting message, as she uttered a noise of surprise. Without taking her eyes off of her mobile phone's display, she told me that we would go out on a pleasure trip today and I had to make the arrangements. So, I cleaned up the kitchen after the breakfast and proceeded to the bathroom. Here I had to stand by in case that Milady wanted me to lend her a helping hand while she put on her clothes, applied her make-up and dressed her hair. But this time, only the condition of her red boots would cause Milady's discontent. I found that a bit harsh at first, but after a close look I had to admit that my mistress was right once again. Actually, I could spot a little impurity caused by my imperfect organisation when it came to the storage of this kind of precious footgear.

While I kissed the dust off of the boots which she already wore, she hit me on my butt for a few times. Since a couple of days my mistress enjoyed to use a ordinary fly swatter for this kind of correction. Although the strokes didn't hurt, they did attain a degrading impact. Just like they we're supposed to do.

After Milady was pleased with her boots, she clapped her hands, which was the appointed sign for me to get ready. In contrast to my mistress, this was a very short procedure. After all, my conventional going-out-dress for the summer consisted of a pair of half-length pants and a pink t-shirt with an imprint saying „It's a women's world“. Despite my hurry, I was awaited by an impatient Milady when I made it to the foyer. She rudely threw her handbag at me as I approached her at a quick pace, and grasped the car key from the small sideboard. A snap of her finger was my signal to follow her to the outside. We headed to the car and the fact that Milady didn't hand the car key over to me made me realize that she wanted to drive by herself today. In this case, my place was on the back seat of the car. I only was allowed to touch the back seat with my buttocks exposed to avoid the danger of damaging the seat with any sharp-edged object on my pants, which I could fully understand. Therefore, I obediently pulled down my pants a bit before I got in the car.

While driving, my mistress didn't talk to me, but rather turned on the radio to listen to her favourite station SLAVE FM. Radio slaves worked at this station. They sang songs from the charts a capella and humiliated themselves in a variety of ways. The anchorwomen of the station provided dominant women with advice on the degradation of slaves, told anti-male jokes and punished the singing slaves for failed performances.

My mistress once let me know that she couldn't imagine anymore how bleak and dreary the world must have been before the time of SLAVE FM, when the women began to dominate the men and turned them into their toys, servants and willing slaves – without a single man seriously resisting at all. Even though all of this

Impressum

Verlag: BookRix GmbH & Co. KG

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 12.10.2014
ISBN: 978-3-7368-4711-8

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