Real - Miss Marie's First Visit
The month was June, just a few months after meeting Miss Marie on the train. Master had kept in touch with her and she had 10 days off and wanted to come visit and learn more about BDSM, D/s, the lifestyle, and so Master had invited her to stay with us.
My recollection of this first visit is not as clear as the time on the Amtrak train, but I will do my best to remember correctly. I also tend to over describe, so please bear with me. This is not me inventing a story but remembering how the events happened, sharing my raw feelings at the time (or at least how I remember them now, 2 years later).
Miss Marie drove to our house in the suburb of Houston on a Friday, late afternoon, after her work day. She was to stay for 10 days, returning home on a Sunday. I was very happy about this because I remember admiring her during our short visit on the Amtrak.
The house we live in is two stories, with the master bedroom downstairs, and 3 guest bedrooms upstairs (one was transformed into a home office). In preparation for Miss Marie's visit I cleaned and prepared her bedroom and bathroom (2 bathrooms on the top floor, mine and hers). We have a maid come in every other week to clean the house, and in between those cleanings I keep the house clean.
Before Miss Marie arrived Mistress did an inspection of the bedroom and bathroom and was pleased. I had also prepared some snacks and drinks in the living room knowing she would be tired after a day at work and the drive from San Antonio.
I was dressed in my heels and my leather harness (I think - one of those details I am not 100% sure of) with a short kimono to cover me (went to mid to upper thighs).
When Mistress' car pulled up in the driveway I opened the door to greet her by kissing her feet and she gave me her car keys so I could fetch her suitcases. While they all chatted in the living room I carried Miss Marie's suitcases to her bedroom and after removing the jacket I returned to check on them in the living room. After refreshing their drinks I was sent back up to unpack Miss Marie's suitcases, hang her clothes, put out her toiletries, ...
When I returned to the living room I was told that Miss Marie was now Mistress to me, for the duration of her stay. She was here to learn more about our 24/7 lifestyle, observe and participate in it and that I was here to serve her like I serve Master and Mistress. Master and Mistress had to work most days, so I was Mistress Marie's submissive and guide during the day (she wanted to see parts of Houston and not just stay in the house).
My first task was to give Mistress Marie a detailed tour of the house. Toys (clamps, leashes, ...) are hidden in various boxes in different rooms, so I showed her that, how to use the television, computers, ... We then went upstairs so she could review how I unpacked her suitcases and make any changes she wanted.
Since Mistress Marie was tired from the long day I drew a bath for her, and helped her to bed after a short massage, and I left her to sleep.
I won't try to write about each day, for one thing it would be way too long and for another thing I do not remember all the details or chronology and would most likely get it wrong. Instead I will focus on the strong moments, the ones I remember most vividly. I will also write another post about a typical day for me, which is what happened when Mistress Marie was with us.
One thing that was hard for Mistress Marie was to get used to asking me, her submissive, to do things for her instead of doing them herself. Like preparing her meal, fetching a drink, her purse, opening the car door for her ... and at first I felt like she didn't like the way I was serving her. Instead she was so used to doing everything herself that she simply forgot to ask. It took her a few days before getting comfortable with it.
Mistress Marie was also able to see the reality of a 24/7 slave relationship. I did not live naked at home every day. Or in lingerie. I was not flogged every day. I had chores and tasks to do. I would sometimes wear jeans, pants, blouses. I had free time. I had hobbies I could pursue. I took some informal classes to better myself. I would have normal chats with my owners. I did not dress like a slut to go grocery shopping for example, a place where young k**s can be present. I wore heels, and I dressed well (no casual t-shirts, no flip-flops, no stained shirts, ...) and I always had my make up done. Sometimes the height of the heel was the only difference between me and a business woman.
But she also saw that the role of the owner, the dominant, whichever word one wants to use is one of great responsibility. And she saw that, which is a very important part of this lifestyle. A lot of people think they would like it but then it becomes too much for them to handle. And that is fine, it is not for everyone. Some like to play from time to time, others like to own a person.
The pain sessions revealed Mistress Marie's sadistic streaks and a little bit of cognitive dissonance. As a nurse she helped her patients and avoided pain, but with me she gave pain. She knew how to be safe, areas to avoid. She learnt a lot during those 10 days, how to build up the pain, how to organize a session, how to motivate the sub (me) to take more and to want more. In a way it is a mix of science and art.
Because we were both upstairs we had a lot of late night chats, vanilla chats. About her, her job, not being sure what she wanted in life and about me and my past. I cherish those memories. As I said before the life of a slave is not being shackled 24/7 and silent, it is one of being a listener, a helper. The difference with two vanilla friends chatting is that while she was sitting in an armchair, I was kneeling at her feet, nude most of the time, and she could pet me or pinch me for her pleasure.
One day a long time ago I heard someone describe what they considered being the perfect relationship: where one person cares for the other more than for oneself (and it is reciprocated). This is in a vanilla setting of course.
But it resonated with me. As a slave I do not really worry or care about myself, because my owners do it for me. They provide for me, they teach me, protect me, give me what I need. And I focus on them instead of myself, and this is what makes me the happiest. You can call me stupid if you wish, but the fact is, having other people making decisions for me has improved my life a lot more than when I was on my own.
It does not mean that at times I am not jealous or even feel anger or sadness, I am human after all. But it means that when such feelings come to the surface I accept them and analyze them and see how I need to be. And I can always come to my owners and speak freely and openly about my feelings, they are here to help me and I know they will never punish me or retaliate for the way I feel.
My recollection of this first visit is not as clear as the time on the Amtrak train, but I will do my best to remember correctly. I also tend to over describe, so please bear with me. This is not me inventing a story but remembering how the events happened, sharing my raw feelings at the time (or at least how I remember them now, 2 years later).
Miss Marie drove to our house in the suburb of Houston on a Friday, late afternoon, after her work day. She was to stay for 10 days, returning home on a Sunday. I was very happy about this because I remember admiring her during our short visit on the Amtrak.
The house we live in is two stories, with the master bedroom downstairs, and 3 guest bedrooms upstairs (one was transformed into a home office). In preparation for Miss Marie's visit I cleaned and prepared her bedroom and bathroom (2 bathrooms on the top floor, mine and hers). We have a maid come in every other week to clean the house, and in between those cleanings I keep the house clean.
Before Miss Marie arrived Mistress did an inspection of the bedroom and bathroom and was pleased. I had also prepared some snacks and drinks in the living room knowing she would be tired after a day at work and the drive from San Antonio.
I was dressed in my heels and my leather harness (I think - one of those details I am not 100% sure of) with a short kimono to cover me (went to mid to upper thighs).
When Mistress' car pulled up in the driveway I opened the door to greet her by kissing her feet and she gave me her car keys so I could fetch her suitcases. While they all chatted in the living room I carried Miss Marie's suitcases to her bedroom and after removing the jacket I returned to check on them in the living room. After refreshing their drinks I was sent back up to unpack Miss Marie's suitcases, hang her clothes, put out her toiletries, ...
When I returned to the living room I was told that Miss Marie was now Mistress to me, for the duration of her stay. She was here to learn more about our 24/7 lifestyle, observe and participate in it and that I was here to serve her like I serve Master and Mistress. Master and Mistress had to work most days, so I was Mistress Marie's submissive and guide during the day (she wanted to see parts of Houston and not just stay in the house).
My first task was to give Mistress Marie a detailed tour of the house. Toys (clamps, leashes, ...) are hidden in various boxes in different rooms, so I showed her that, how to use the television, computers, ... We then went upstairs so she could review how I unpacked her suitcases and make any changes she wanted.
Since Mistress Marie was tired from the long day I drew a bath for her, and helped her to bed after a short massage, and I left her to sleep.
I won't try to write about each day, for one thing it would be way too long and for another thing I do not remember all the details or chronology and would most likely get it wrong. Instead I will focus on the strong moments, the ones I remember most vividly. I will also write another post about a typical day for me, which is what happened when Mistress Marie was with us.
One thing that was hard for Mistress Marie was to get used to asking me, her submissive, to do things for her instead of doing them herself. Like preparing her meal, fetching a drink, her purse, opening the car door for her ... and at first I felt like she didn't like the way I was serving her. Instead she was so used to doing everything herself that she simply forgot to ask. It took her a few days before getting comfortable with it.
Mistress Marie was also able to see the reality of a 24/7 slave relationship. I did not live naked at home every day. Or in lingerie. I was not flogged every day. I had chores and tasks to do. I would sometimes wear jeans, pants, blouses. I had free time. I had hobbies I could pursue. I took some informal classes to better myself. I would have normal chats with my owners. I did not dress like a slut to go grocery shopping for example, a place where young k**s can be present. I wore heels, and I dressed well (no casual t-shirts, no flip-flops, no stained shirts, ...) and I always had my make up done. Sometimes the height of the heel was the only difference between me and a business woman.
But she also saw that the role of the owner, the dominant, whichever word one wants to use is one of great responsibility. And she saw that, which is a very important part of this lifestyle. A lot of people think they would like it but then it becomes too much for them to handle. And that is fine, it is not for everyone. Some like to play from time to time, others like to own a person.
The pain sessions revealed Mistress Marie's sadistic streaks and a little bit of cognitive dissonance. As a nurse she helped her patients and avoided pain, but with me she gave pain. She knew how to be safe, areas to avoid. She learnt a lot during those 10 days, how to build up the pain, how to organize a session, how to motivate the sub (me) to take more and to want more. In a way it is a mix of science and art.
Because we were both upstairs we had a lot of late night chats, vanilla chats. About her, her job, not being sure what she wanted in life and about me and my past. I cherish those memories. As I said before the life of a slave is not being shackled 24/7 and silent, it is one of being a listener, a helper. The difference with two vanilla friends chatting is that while she was sitting in an armchair, I was kneeling at her feet, nude most of the time, and she could pet me or pinch me for her pleasure.
One day a long time ago I heard someone describe what they considered being the perfect relationship: where one person cares for the other more than for oneself (and it is reciprocated). This is in a vanilla setting of course.
But it resonated with me. As a slave I do not really worry or care about myself, because my owners do it for me. They provide for me, they teach me, protect me, give me what I need. And I focus on them instead of myself, and this is what makes me the happiest. You can call me stupid if you wish, but the fact is, having other people making decisions for me has improved my life a lot more than when I was on my own.
It does not mean that at times I am not jealous or even feel anger or sadness, I am human after all. But it means that when such feelings come to the surface I accept them and analyze them and see how I need to be. And I can always come to my owners and speak freely and openly about my feelings, they are here to help me and I know they will never punish me or retaliate for the way I feel.
4 years ago
