[FF] [BDSM] When I was twenty two, I spent about a year as a financially compensated sex slave to a couple over twice my age. (Part 7) (Very long)

(TL;DR is in the comments)

*(Note for the softies):*

This is an obligatory “trigger warning” for “violence” depending on your own perceptions. Also, some detailed psychological trauma, but if you’ve read the other parts then it’s not much worse than that.)

*(Very long note to EVERYONE reading this):*

One of the real hearts of the matter that Part 7 focuses on is a very simple concept:
‘Consent.’

When it comes to sex, or any other action performed by an individual’s body that might effect another individual in some way, whether the final result of such an action is positive or negative, the most important thing is consent. This is true whether it’s violence and sex, theft or generosity, polite manners or rudeness, all the way up to the grander things like war or peace between groups of individuals. Whether that group is bonded as a faith, ideology, corporation or just a piece of land with some people on it that call themselves a nation, state, town, or community, individuals give one another consent that something should or should not happen. This is a key factor of human behavior on every scale of society. For example, sometimes people break laws, and then sometimes they are caught by authorities or sometimes no one else knows that anything happened at all.

As I’ve stated previously, aside from the prostitution and the cocaine that Judith did whenever she was meeting a new girl who was cool with doing the drug and was experienced in its use, Henry and Judith never broke any laws. They were also both strict followers of a moral code. This wasn’t some moral code they made up themselves either. It was the moral code of individual freedom, so long as any action they make doesn’t cause harm to another person without that person’s explicit consent. This, as I learned then, was a core value not just of a proper dominant sexual partner, but of anyone who is truly a decent human being.

The definition of Consent is ‘permission for something to happen or agreement to do something.’ It’s right there on Google. Consent, verbal consent specifically, was the line in the sand for both Henry and Judith. That point is something I need to make very clear, because the real world isn’t black and white and some of the things that I’m going to describe in “Part 7” I believe fall into a very gray area if I wish to tell this story correctly; with my own insights from looking back in the years since this all happened so that I might also be able to see from Judith’s side of things as well as my own. I can’t just tell this without also adding my insights into her motivations which I couldn’t have known at the time. However, I believe she had a pretty good idea of what was going on in my head at the time. This is a story of perspective, my perspective to be exact. It happened a long time ago and with time comes a greater understanding of what was really going on through the benefit of hindsight.

There is however a problem with me telling this story on this medium, that is one of the rules regarding the mention of certain details and I honestly don’t know if I’m allowed to say the word “E. P. A. R.” (spell that backwards and you’ll understand what I mean) or if someone might ban me for putting the word in here a few times. So I’m going to try to avoid saying that word as much as possible. Judith had my verbal consent, until she didn’t. Then when I told her to stop, she stopped, and just like that it was over. For the time being anyways. Even though I gave her my consent up until the very last second, I wanted it to stop long before that point.

Some people would label that to be a different action than I would. However, what Judith did to me wasn’t entirely sexual. She gave me pleasure, and pain during the pleasure, however, the pain wasn’t entirely sexual, but psychological. It wasn’t the pain or the sex that I didn’t want, it was the psychological aspect of what she did to me. What kind? Well I won’t spoil that for you here. Chances are, if you’re reading/listening to this, then you’re probably one of the few who read the first part and have decided to stick around to see what happens next. I’m the same way with all stories, be it in the form of television shows, video games, books or even an anonymous amateur writer on the Internet. Truly, thank you for your interest in my life, it means more than you could ever know.

And please, if what you read makes you feel bad, just imagine how I felt in the moments I’m about to describe to you. Details of the physical world around me, the sensations in my body, and the thoughts going through my mind at the time and occasionally adding some clarity of hindsight; these things are equally important in telling this story. Henry and Judith definitely used “their girls” as objects of their own desires, and almost always our own desires as well, but they treated us like all human beings should be treated. Plus, they were pretty generous with their compensation and health benefits. No, there were no written contracts or health insurance or a 401k. But they paid out of pocket for everything we could ever want or need, including things like getting Sweetie braces to correct her crooked teeth and getting me breast implants. And no, that wasn’t for them. I just always wanted my tits to be a size bigger and a little perkier.

I feel no need whatsoever to defend Judith or Henry’s actions because they never harmed us. Despite how into BDSM Judith was and how rough Henry could be, they never gagged anyone’s mouth. That whole thing about verbal consent was a boundary to the two of them that was as solid as the cold floor was when I stepped off of that crucifix, my nipples bleeding from the new piercings, not realizing I was about to be taught the very same lesson that I’m trying to get across to you all right now.

Someone in the comments of an earlier post mentioned “proper rules for domination” but the thing about that, just like with drugs, sex, and violence, is that not everyone follows the same rules as everyone else. That’s why civilizations build prisons and have a policing force for the population to make sure the really Evil people are prevented from hurting others. Just as the other parts, I will not be able to do the memory proper justice if I omit certain details, such as my inner thoughts at the time, as well as certain details that I didn’t realize until after the fact.

Thank you for reading/listening.

(End of note)

Part 7

The thing to understand about slavery is that it still exists today. It’s something that most people think of as having been abolished by all of humanity in a time when wars were still waged with muskets on horseback. That is simply false. Governments banned slavery by their laws, that is true, but like any sort of prohibition, there are individuals, groups, and organizations that still enslave and oppress other human beings to this very day. They take actions that strip individuals of their basic human liberties and force them against their will to do their master’s bidding. These things come in many forms. From illegal sex trafficking, to factory workers in China, to the internment camps in North Korea, to some evil men somewhere in civilized society that would abduct and rape a woman at knife-point for a little while before tossing her out of a moving vehicle in the middle of the wilderness. True slavery will likely always have some place in humanity no matter how much us decent people might wish it were otherwise.

The ten commandments were agreed upon by a group of people thousands of years ago and yet today there are still plenty of people who still murder and steal, these actions are committed by people who prescribe to that ideology as well as those who don’t. Rules are valuable for society to function, but the truth about rules is that they are something that is immaterial. They only exist because people believe they do. To be clear, when I say rules, I don’t mean the fundamental laws of the universe, understood by us through the languages we call math and science. The rules I mean are the ones in regards to human behavior; how people treat each other and the world around them. Rules make us feel safe, and it’s good to feel safe, that’s how we got to where we are today from the time humans began using sharp sticks to fight off carnivorous predators.

Unfortunately, some of the rules that keep us safe, end up harming us in some possibly unforeseen way either directly or indirectly.

Perhaps this just sounds like some ponderous mumbo-jumbo so far, but I promise that I’ll get to the point soon. First, I need to confess something to you all: in “Part 4” I told you a lie and then omitted some of the truth.

I was worried that this account would be banned for telling you everything because the truth of the matter may have violated some ambiguous rules of the subreddit or offended a bunch of people into falsely reporting the post. I’m hoping that those of you still reading will forgive me if I tell you now, because just like every other part of this story, the context really does matter as I try to explain what happened after I stepped off that cross.

The lie I told was that I barely understood why the part with the piggy bank was enough to make Sweetie cry. I edited out those paragraphs and replaced it with the lie followed by an omission of the truth because I didn’t want to offend anyone who is above a certain weight. Some people can be sensitive about the topic and I don’t want anyone to think I’m condoning such cruelty by telling you the truth behind Henry’s intent that night. You see, Sweetie, as I mentioned, was an addict not long before we met one another. I don’t just mean the hard drugs, either. Her other primary vice was bulimia, which if you don’t know, is an eating disorder where a person gorges then vomits immediately after eating. Sweetie had used to be much larger when she was a teenager, had developed the disorder while in high school. It was only after she dropped out that she got involved with the heroine and meth. By the time I met her she was three months sober, aside from the weed. When I met her, she had already gotten back up to a healthy weight for her body type. That day when we had gotten to know each other she had told me about how Judith had been the one to help her with all of it and Sweetie felt greatly indebted to Judith for rescuing her from her self-destructive path.

The fact that we had both been overweight in the past and knew what it was like to be “the fat girl” was one of the many similarities that we had bonded over. My childhood obesity was a result of shitty parenting, but the year before I started high school I became focused on slimming down. I did it. It took two years to get the body size I could finally be comfortable with. By the time I joined the track and field team my sophomore year I was getting a lot of attention from guys and being one of the “hot girls” led to me being one of the “slutty girls” pretty soon afterwards because I loved the attention as much as the sex.

That was when I had begun having sex, with boys who were my age for the most part. Like I said in Part 1, I’ve always been an unabashed slut, and that was especially true back then, but when I was a teenager I didn’t really say no to anyone who wanted me. There was more than one time when I refused and someone would use my body without my consent; for a while it just kind of kept happening over the years and it became a thing that just kind of occurred somewhat infrequently, like it was no big deal.

Now, I need to share something else before I tell you what happened between Judith and me on that third night with her. Even though I’m just referencing what happened to me to give you a little context about why I was so fearful in a moment that I thought would be pure bliss going into the next part with Judith and I. Chances are that if you’re still reading this then you’ll appreciate me sharing the absolutely darkest moment in my life which changed me for the better even though it nearly killed me.

There was one time in particular when I was taken against my will, I truly feared for my own life. That specific example about a girl being raped at knife-point and tossed out a moving vehicle was me. It happened two years before these events that I’ve been sharing with you, but it is important knowledge if you really want to understand me. It was the only time in my life I truly felt like I wouldn’t see another sunrise. Strangely enough, it hadn’t been the knife or the fall from the back of the vehicle that had nearly killed me, but the hypothermia as I spent hours in the dead of night stumbling my way barefooted down a rocky uneven road in what little torn clothing I was left with. The amount of willpower it took to put one foot in front of the other as the unseen rocks tore at my feet is unbelievable. Out of all the moments of my life, that night was the most suffering I have ever felt at once. It was all I could do not to give in, lie down, and hope someone came to save me from a slow, cold death which surely awaited me if I hadn’t pressed onward despite the pain, fear, and humiliation. Yeah, you wouldn’t think humiliation would really factor into the emotions when facing almost certain death. But all I could think was that someone would find my corpse and they’d file the sum total of my life away as just some girl who was assaulted and left for dead. Just another tale of woe in the form of an ‘unsolved crimes’ statistic.

The reason I shared that is because I need you to understand the level of trauma and fear I was capable of suffering through and coming out stronger and wiser. This is all pretty important to give you a measure of my determination because of what Judith was about to do to me.

What Henry had done the previous night had been cruel to Sweetie because it was a symbol of her continuous struggle with her eating disorder, it was like a swear-jar but for dietary discipline.

The final truth I omitted from ‘Part 4’ was that it wasn’t just the one dime that Henry had placed inside me. First it was four dimes, then five nickels, and finally, ten pennies, and of course, the quarter that he made me hold in my mouth. I had started crying openly when he started using nickels. I had started sobbing when he began to use the pennies. He spanked me every time after he put one of the coins inside me. He hadn’t spanked me painfully. In fact, every single strike was hardly more than a tap, and yet even though I hated every second of it, I still let him continue until I had “earned” the entire dollar.

Obviously, the piggy bank had a different meaning for me than it did for Sweetie when Henry had basically spent somewhere between five to ten minutes making me feel like the “fat girl” that I had worked so hard to put behind me. There really was no line he wouldn’t cross to hurt someone emotionally. He was really expert at prying apart vulnerabilities that you might’ve forgotten were even there in the back of your mind. I collapsed to the desk at the point after he put in the final penny and I begged him to just hurry up and fuck me. Even though I had never told him to stop while he had inserted the coins into me, I hadn’t wanted it, but I didn’t say no. Some might see that as rape, I see it as prostitution while in a distressed mental state, just as Sweetie had been when he had fucked her a moment before.

Let me be clear, Henry had certainly violated me; mind, body, and spirit. But he hadn’t raped me; not then, or ever. Try to understand, on that night two years before, I had experienced what true evil was. I’m not sure if you’ve ever truly considered the full range of what forms evil can take, but I’ll try to explain as well as I know how, based on my own experience and perspective. We all know of evil, of course. We give them names like Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin whose ideologies led to the greatest loss of life, in terms of violence, on an unprecedented scale in human history. The real thing about violence, in regards to inflicting your will on another person to their detriment, is that it is always personal; right in your face. You can witness violence, but if you’ve ever truly experienced it, whether in the form of an angry fistfight between men, rape, armed robbery, or murder, then something happens inside you that makes you disregard all the rules of society in that moment because they suddenly no longer exist. They become immaterial. If you’ve experienced that, whether you were a perpetrator or a victim, you know what evil feels like.

On that very same night two years before, after I hammered on the front door of the first house I could find, I had also come face to face with that other extreme of humanity: Goodness. It’s face was that of an elderly woman who took me into her home and tended to me; saved me. If it hadn’t been for that woman, I would have died that night, the last faces I saw being those of evil men. Evil doesn’t always come in the form of a delightful grin formed from a evil person’s malice, sometimes it’s just the faces of seemingly regular people who see you as a disposable thing to be tossed out of a vehicle, like one would toss an empty soda cup out of a window. Evil can seem like a rather benign behavior sometimes, but so can goodness.

That elderly woman hadn’t needed some rule of society or ideology to help a person who was at the unforgiving cold of the uncaring world. She simply saw me standing there in her doorway, dirty in my torn rags, bloody feet, and numerous scrapes and bruises and she had known immediately how to help me without ever having met anyone in my mental and physical state in her long life. All she saw was a person crying and asking her for help. And she instinctively helped me. That is what goodness is.

So you see, dear reader, before I was legally allowed to drink, I had experienced both morally opposing sides of human behavior. Something like that changes you. It makes you see people, all people, in a whole new light. Especially you, yourself, as a human being, as an individual with a life and free will. It makes you realize that your free will, as well as your life, don’t actually matter to the universe as far as anyone really knows. People only matter because one another believe they do. It’s something deep down in our genetic coding. The same kind as in every living creature on this planet whether they be flocks of birds, schools of fish, or herds of antelopes. The thing about Good and Evil is that it isn’t binary, black and white, wholly positive or entirely negative. There are many opposing aspects that compose the meanings of both of those labels for human behavior, but one of the key factors is simply “how much does a particular person’s life, liberty, and happiness matter to me.”

As so many things that were strange and wonderous about Judith was that she was neither Good, nor Evil, but somewhere in the middle, possessing qualities of each opposing ends of human morality. I had been attracted by her beauty; tempted by our shared desires; covetous of her wisdom and experience; and the money had only ever truly been an excuse.

Judith herself was the singular reason that I wished to remain in such a strange and seemingly traumatic place. I was addicted to her by the end of that first night. I would do anything to keep feeling what she made me feel. I’m not talking about just the sex and the pain; which I’ll get to in just a moment. I mean the sense of belonging she gave me for all those months up until I decided, by my own choice, to leave.

There was only ever one moment that I ever told her “No” even though I believed at the time that she would discard me. It happened a short while after I stepped down from that crucifix.

Judith ordered me to retrieve the glove and eye-liner case from where she had tossed them on the bed during those moments that turned out to be only a prelude for the main event she had planned for me. I did so, handing them to her. She told me to take a seat while she glided over to her collection, replacing the glove and disk in their proper place. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her as she slowly walked back and forth, her stilettos clicking on the hard floor while she seemed to ponder what she would do next.

Like I’ve said before, I took some time to checkout the display cases to try and get myself familiar with Judith’s kink on that second day there. There were lots of different objects I can only describe as miscellaneous, a few actual weapons, a wide variety of sex toys, and tools both for mechanical and surgical purposes. I’m not saying that she used screw drivers, scissors, and scalpels on anyone, just that they were in the cases. Those particular tools I only ever saw her use for things like cutting fabric and tape. I was pretty freaked out at first, but since I had been reassured that everything was voluntary, and had actually believed it after everything I had experienced and witnessed even up to this point. I hoped more than anything that she wouldn’t make me refuse her.

The first items she grabbed had been a trio of remotely controlled vibrators, their controller, and a role of clear surgical tape, the kind used on flesh that works even if there’s sweat or other fluids. She held them in one hand while she slowly walked to a display case on the other side of the room, pretending not to care whether I was staring at her or not. Her grace was effortless with an undertone of excitement that gave me a sense that she was just as impatient as she was deliberately making me wait.

I wanted more than anything in that moment to simply touch her, more accurately to say that I wanted her to touch me. I already craved Judith’s touch more than I had ever craved the touch of any other person before that period in my life. The lines she had scratched on my flesh only a moment before ached with the absence of her inflicting her will on my body. So, when she grabbed some inconspicuous little box and brought the gathered items over to stand in front of me, I would do anything to feel her flesh against mine, no matter what the cost to myself might be.

By the time she finally ordered me to lay flat in the middle of the bed, arms down to my sides and legs together, I was only too eager to comply. Judith laid the objects on the bed and then sat on the edge to remove her thigh-high black stilettos before retrieving the objects once more and crawling over to me. My heartbeat sped up immediately as I finally felt her skin touch mine when she straddled my thighs. She tossed the objects beside her, within reach, but holding onto the surgical tape and one of the small pink vibrators. Gently, she attached the vibrator to the front of my vulva. The other two she taped just above my newly pierced nipples. Judith made certain that the vibrators and the silver rings were touching one another, though she did it gently so that she wouldn’t cause me pain, so exact were her nimble fingers, even though I was breathing a bit unevenly due to the fear and my anticipation for the pleasure that was so inevitable in that moment.

She moved up my body, straddling my hips as she placed her groin on the vibrator between us. She held up the remote and asked,

“Do you want me to turn it on, Slave?”

“Yes Mistress”

My response was immediate, before she had even finished the last syllable. Smiling wickedly at my eagerness she asked,

“What’s the polite way to ask for something you want, Slave?”

“Please, Mistress.”

Her eyes narrowed with sadistic intent, knowing full well that all she needed to do to torture me was to make me wait another second. Her thumb toyed with the switch, I watched it, hoping she would just do it already. As she played with the remote, I could feel her hot wetness drip onto my flesh and I knew that she was anticipating it just as much if not even more-so than I was. Still she just said,

“Tell me what you want, Haley.”

When Judith said my name, she said it with the same tone as when she called me “Slave” and it just made her question so intimate that I was compelled to answer her honestly,

“I want to please you.”

She hadn’t even raised an eyebrow at the lack of a “mistress” on the end of my answer. And I didn’t have time to correct my error because all I could do was scream. She had set them on medium, but the ones near my nipples caused a sensation that I can only really compare to when your leg falls asleep and it feels like thousands of tiny needles are jabbing into your nerves for a moment. She turned the volume down to it’s lowest settings after an interminable minute and I was suddenly able to open my eyes again.

Judith was looking down at me, taking in the sight of my body, my involuntary squirming lessening. If she hadn’t been pinning my wrists beneath her thighs I would’ve instinctively torn the vibrators off of my tits and she new this, which was part of the reason she had straddled my hips. The other reason, being that she wanted to share the sensations with me. Only about two-thirds of the sensations, actually, since she was only pinching one of her nipples through the sheer fabric of her uniform. Almost every article of lingerie she ever wore was sheer or open so that her pierced nipples were visible. Like the ones she had only just gifted to me, hers were silver, but whereas each of mine had an emerald, hers were mismatched with a sapphire on her left and a ruby on her right. The ring she had firmly grasped between her thumb and middle finger was the one with the ruby.

I watched her pinch harder and twist just as she turned the volume back up to medium and this time I could hear both of us scream; in both pain and pleasure. I had been too surprised by the sudden pain in my nipples the first time, but now I could really feel the vibrations on my groin. I think that seeing Judith’s expression of unfiltered joy as she closed her eyes to better savor our shared sensations made my swirling thoughts, emotions, and feelings finally register that while I certainly felt pain there was also pleasure to be found. All I had to do was focus on it.

Again and again, she switched between the medium and low settings, causing us both to ride that roller coaster of pure sensation. I didn’t bother counting; I couldn’t count. Time blurred with the sensations and I wasn’t just a passenger while Judith drove me into ecstasy.

I was breathless, my mind hazy and muddled, but then something I saw snapped me back to reality; sobering me as instantly as a bucket of ice water dumped over by sweaty body. You’ll recall that Judith had another object, a small inconspicuous box. As it turned out, that box was full of needles. Acupuncture needles to be precise.

Suddenly, everything just felt different than it really was. My eye’s could see the world around me in a clarity that I can still shut my eyes and remember perfectly to this day; as easily as I can pull up a video on my phone. The light in the entire room flickered, the light bulbs designed to perfectly create the atmosphere of actual candlelight from sconces on all the walls as well as the four, almost medieval, stainless steel chandeliers evenly spaced on the ceiling. We were both on a large and firm bed; it had no springs, but it enveloped my body just enough for me to feel secure.

Until the instant that I saw the tiny needle Judith held in her fingers between the two of us. Point of fact, I’ve never really had many phobias, ingrained or otherwise, but needles have always been my third biggest phobia. It was enough for me to become paralyzed with shock as the fear triggered that memory inside me of that night two years before. I suddenly felt unsafe, something I had never felt with Judith up until that point.

The thing about a beautiful woman like Judith is that it’s like there’s an invisible radiance of charisma around them that blinds you to what kind of person they really are. As I saw her holding up that needle, I was terrified, not just of the needle, but of Judith herself.

When her, Sweetie, and I had been talking about doing this sort of thing that first night, Judith had asked me if I had any phobias. Try to put yourself in my shoes; there’s a gorgeous dark haired goddess with her nipple rings visible, offering to pay you to have exactly the kind of sex you’ve always fantasized about and let you live in her mansion so long as you’re polite and follow the rules of the house. Needless to say, I was more than willing to be an open book. And so I had told her the truth about my phobias in the mistaken belief that she would use the knowledge to avoid tripping my fear by mistake. Judith wanted to make me feel fear, however.

She saw it on my face and suddenly her face was entirely passive. She had flicked the switch to turn the vibrators off. I only realized later that the sudden absence of sensation had been as responsible for my instant sobering as my phobia suddenly appearing in front of me.

Now, this might be the part where I would say no, and normally you would be right. There’s just one difference between not wanting something to happen and still making or letting it happen anyways. That is of course: the reason. Whether it’s facing your fears, getting up and going to work in the mornings when all you want to do is lay in bed for a bit longer, or changing something about yourself.

My reason was Judith. Her face was passive, the absence of her smile reminding me of the faces of evil, uncaring people, and I didn’t want to feel what she had suddenly and deliberately made me feel. Her body was still atop mine, the heat and wetness of one another’s skin the only thing to remind me that I wasn’t alone. Unfortunately, it felt like I was with a predator rather than another human being and in that moment I forgot that there were rules. I forgot Judith had rules.

If my instinctual paralysis had worn off any faster I would have panicked and tried to get away. Before I could come to my senses, Judith’s words reminded me of her number one rule, however.

“Do you want me to use this on you?”

Suddenly, at the sound of Judith’s words, the needle felt like an offer, like a transaction; not a weapon to be used against me. She was asking me for my consent. It was enough for me to bite back my fear and answer her,

“Yes… Mistress.”

It felt bad to lie to Judith, but when I had told her that I had ‘wanted to please her,’ that had been the truth and still was. If this was what it took, then it would be worth all the pain and the fear… I had to believe that.

Her face still passive, Judith asked, “Are you certain that you want this?”

Again, I answered her, “Yes, Mistress.”

Finally she asked me, “Why do you want this?”

I told her the truth, “To please you, Mistress.”

Smiling, she said, “Then here is your reward.”

I instinctively shut my eyes and turned my head, waiting for the pain of the needle piercing my flesh. I opened my eyes to look at Judith when she repeated her question, “Do you want this?”

She still held the needle in her fingers, I said, “Yes mistress.”

Judith asked me a second time, “Why do you want this?”

And I answered, “To please you, Mistress.” and again as she brought it close I closed my eyes tightly.

Still there was no pinch of pain anywhere and I thought that maybe she wasn’t going to do it unless I kept my eyes open. I resolved to do as she wished.

But this time, as I opened my eyes to look up at her as she asked me the same question a third time. Suddenly, I saw the two needles already in my flesh as she held up a third one. One of them, the first one I saw was in my left breast, the other was in my right shoulder. The colored handles of the needles were shaking and I realize that was because I was shivering. The fear and anxiety caused my muscles throughout my body to twitch involuntarily with physical nervousness. Judith could feel my fear as clearly as she saw it on my face, and yet her face remained passive after piercing my flesh that first time.

I replied to her third repeat of the question with the same lie, “I want it, Mistress.”

Then, as I had expected, she asked me yet again, “Why do you want it?”

And I told her the truth, again.

Over and over, we repeated the same exchange of words. I began to feel the needles when they pierced my flesh and realized that she was beginning to use larger ones. None of them hurt nearly so much as when she had pierced my nipples. I had faced this particular phobia once before, several years before, when I had pierced my ear lobes, but to actually see the shiny metal spikes piercing through my skin all over my arms and torso was a truly harrowing ordeal.

I had been pierced fourteen times on that day if you include the nipple piercings. I had stopped shaking at some point when I had just accepted what was happening, just like every other time something happened to me and I didn’t speak my mind or trying to stop whatever was happening from happening. I had simply fallen into the repetitiveness of it: the lie followed by the truth.

When she asked, “Do you want me to take them out?”

Surprised that her question hadn’t been asking if I wanted yet another needle stuck in me, I truthfully replied, “Yes, Mistress.”

Without asking me why I wanted the needles taken out, she began removing them. When they were finally all removed I felt so relieved that a sudden exhaustion overcame me. That was when she turned the vibrators back on, it was only the low setting, but the return of sensation made me buck underneath Judith. If she hadn’t been sitting on me, I likely would have instinctively torn them off, regardless of whether they were painful or pleasurable. Judith ordered me to stay still and I didn’t have the strength to do otherwise under the renewed barrage of sensations as she dismounted me and got off the bed. I watched her walk to the bedroom door and throw the box of needles in the garbage, she poked her head out the door and called for Sweetie to come to her.

Sweetie arrived shortly, she wore her usual comfy clothes that she usually wore during the daytime, because with Henry out of the house she had the night off, so-to-speak. Or at least she was supposed to, but Judith had apparently wanted to include Sweetie in my first session which was to be my initiation as Judith’s newest submissive slave.

My only regret is that it took me longer than it should have to learn the lesson that Judith was trying to get through my thick skull. Apparently, she didn’t believe it was the kind of thing you can make someone understand by just telling them. Or perhaps she just liked the whole “trial by fire” sort of initiation ritual for all of her slaves at the beginning.

(Cont. in part 7.5)

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/afdwrq/ff_bdsm_when_i_was_twenty_two_i_spent_about_a