My Red Headed Whore John called in desperation, begging for a session with me, it had been awhile since he had served. John was a true slave, and I owned him. There was absolutely nothing he wouldn’t do for me. True slavery is all about your Mistress and her needs. John knew this.
Circumstances beyond our control had separated us for a couple of months and we were both eager to renew our relationship. The Mistress/Slave relationship should be very rewarding for both parties. An intimate bond is forged, one of trust and loyalty.
John arrived at my front door with a pack of my favourite cigarettes, Marlboro menthols. I opened the door, and immediately slapped him across the face.
“Thank you, Mistress, ” he replied, opening the box of cigarettes, placing one in my mouth and lighting it for me.
I snapped my fingers and he knelt before me .
“My feet, Whore! Kiss them!” I commanded as I blew swirls of smoke into his face.
Once again he thanked me.
” I have deadlines to meet you nasty little whore. You will take your place beside me as I write, kneeling like the good little slave that you are.”
” Yes, Mistress.”
John followed me into my bedroom, where I did most of my writing. I commanded him to kneel next to me and light me another cigarette.
“Open your mouth, you pathetic slut!” He did as he was told.
I began typing as I did have papers due. I flicked my ashes onto his tongue. He took every ash I gave him. I tend to chain smoke when I write.When I was down to the end of the cigarette I would take the butt and throw it into a bucket I had by my bed with sand in it. After I finished writing I gave him the pleasure of shoving his head in the bucket as I smoked the last cigarette in the pack.
“You have pleased your Mistress well. Next session perhaps we will not be so rushed.”
” Thank you, My Mistress. I live only to please you. I adore you and you own me.”