Fulfilling Destiny
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I’m talking to myself again. So what? Who else would listen? God, it hurts. It hurts so bad.
I knew it was coming. But there’s no way I could have prepared for this. The pain’s deep down inside my fucking chest. The feeling of emptiness is unreal. The loneliness. I’m gonna lose it. I just know I’m gonna lose my mind. They’re going to put me away somewhere. A place where the world can forget about me. But I won’t forget. I can’t.
Maybe I should just end it. It? Yes, it. End it all. It can’t be that hard to do. It would be a relief. Forever. Why not? I can’t face tomorrow. Heck, I can’t even face today. Look at my hands. They’re shaking. I’m tired. So very tired. I can’t take this anymore and there’s fuck all I can do about it. That’s the worst part of it. I’ve always been able to do something about it when shit happened. All I know now is what hollowness feels like. A great big fucking void sucking everything out of me. That’s all that’s left. A lifeless, useless shell of a man.
My thoughts are only for myself. It’s a gray September day. I’m sitting on a park bench with weeping willows (what else) on either side and a small pond directly ahead surrounded by manicured lawns. The pond water is dark and still. No sunlight reflects on it. Nothing disturbs the surface.
I’m tearing loaves of stale French bread into too-small pieces trying to make it last so I don’t have to do anything else for a while. The Mallards gathered before me are eager for the feeding ritual to continue. I don’t even notice their spirited antics as they jostle for the morsels I toss nonchalantly in their direction.
There’s no-one I know around. That suits me just fine. The last thing I want now is company. Even the presence of strangers is more than bothersome. I glance to either side with bowed head. I see pedestrians everywhere – children walking to school, housewives with strollers or puppies on leashes. Businesspeople hurry to their first appointments of the day. Each carries a sense of their own self-importance in conspicuous briefcases or laptops clasped tightly in clenched fists.
Don’t dare disturb me. I feel my utter despondency radiate out towards them, driving them away. Good. I don’t want to see anybody smiling. I don’t want to hear them laughing. Or even see them going about their daily routines. Because, whatever their personal difficulties, I envy them.
Do you know how lucky you are, just to have normalcy in your lives? I’d give anything to have that again. But you can’t help me. It’s been three days, do you hear? Three days and two very long fucking nights since the funeral. And I haven’t stopped crying. Yeah, I know. Who cares?
Damn it, Peg, why did you have to leave? Why? I know, I know. It wasn’t exactly your fault. You didn’t plan it this way. But, still. Fuck it. I was supposed to go first. Remember, I told you I wanted to go first. I’m no good without you Peg. Sounds like a cliché. But it’s true, especially after 36 years. More than three fucking decades. A damned lifetime. All we had, just disappeared in the blink of an eye. All those years spent building a life together. Caring. Hoping. Modest dreams. Shit. Turns out our efforts built nothing more a fucking house of cards. All gone. Replaced with nothingness. Maybe one day I’ll again appreciate what we had. Right now, I just hurt so much.
Sorry. That wasn’t very fair. Some kinda man I turned out to be. Just a 58 year-old has-been without a future. Fuck, all married people lose a spouse. Eventually. Some sooner than others. Most everybody else seems to be able to cope. What’s wrong with me? God but it hurts.
I glance up at the sky. Huge, dark cumulus clouds block the sun and promise yet another day of relentless rain. The ducks don’t mind at all but the threatening weather just adds to my despair.
How fitting. Gun-metal gray day. Wish I had a gun. Well, fine then. Let it rain. Forever. I don’t give a rat’s ass. Something to wash away the tears so no-one will notice. But it won’t take away the fucking cold. It’s too damn fucking cold for September. Even the weather is against me. Thanks, God. That’s really kind of you! Fuck it.
At what stage of grief am I right now? What did I read about that once? Oh yeah, five stages… something about denial, then followed by anger. I guess I’m at anger. Mad at me. Mad at Peg. Mad at God. Especially mad at God. Why me? And where the hell are you now anyway God?
The funeral kinda took care of denial. Not much choice in that one. Oh shit, next comes depression. I’m not going to make it. There’s no way I can get past depression. Oh God, help me! That’s right, bargain with God. Talk to God. Maybe then yours won’t be the only voice in your head. Forget it. Fat chance God is talking to anyone.
You’re such a jerk Dave. Remember what you always told others about mourning? C’mon big hero. You remember. ‘After a time, grieving becomes self-pity.’ You aren’t feeling sorry for the person who died. They no longer feel anything. ‘You’re feeling sorry for yourself, that’s all.’ Brave words, even if they are true. Well, almost all true. Memories of how much the person suffered. Memories not yet been buried. Regret for their lost years, for the life they might have had. Opportunities to love and be loved. There’s reason enough to feel sorry for the one who has died. But mostly it’s self-pity. Right? Right? Right.
What I need is food. Can’t live on coffee and whiskey. Did I say ‘live’? Shit, Dave. Get a grip. Have another cigarette. Peg’s only vice. She gave up dozens of times but kept coming back to it. Her dependence was more psychological than physical. Growing up we smoked because cigarettes were cheap and smoking was the socially acceptable thing to do. Even expected. A real ice-breaker when making or greeting friends. ‘How are you Bob? I’d like you to meet Rachel. Like a cigarette? What you been up to? Have another cigarette. Don’t mind if I do. Thanks.’
I never could give up the weed either. Not permanently. Cancer? Yeah, well, bring it on. Got nothing to live for anyway. No great loss. Since when did a person dying ever mean anything in the greater scheme of things? Unless you were some big wig or something. And even then the world just keeps turning, spinning along on its merry way. Never mind the daily misery of millions and millions. Thanks again, God. Nice work.
Oh God, help me. If you do I won’t drink anymore. Peg? Can you hear me? Someone! What am I gonna do? It’s early, but there’s a bottle of Jack Daniels at home. Fuck it, that’s one way to cure another hangover. I need to be home. With a bottle.
As I stand up from the bench and prepare for the long walk back the rain begins to fall, gently at first and then, quickly, in flooding torrents as if the clouds are intent on crying harder than the grieving mortal beneath their smothering blanket of gloom.
The ducks know the free meal is over. They make their way to the water’s edge, at first in ones and twos, and then in random groups. I want to follow them. To just keep on walking into the murky depths. But there’s a bottle waiting for me. I’d rather drink whiskey than pond water. For now, anyway. It won’t help me to forget. Not completely. But at least I won’t have to deal with today for a few more hours. Instead, I’ll keep filling the glass and think morbid thoughts about my own misery and mortality.
****
Peggy and I were high school sweethearts back in the 60’s. We grew up in the era of flower power and free love, beliefs that would redefine how the world works. Or so we thought. ‘There’s a whole generation, with a new explanation…’ sang The Byrds. We were in love with being in love. And Peg was so easy to love. She was gorgeous. Vivacious and innocent with a passion for living life to the fullest. Tall, she carried herself with pride, a certain laissezfaire exhibiting her independence and self-confidence.
She had long, brown shoulder-length hair, Azure blue ‘deeper than
the ocean’ eyes, generous lips, a winning smile and an honest, unbridled laugh. Her slim waist perfectly complemented her overly-broad hips. Ordinary? Hardly. This girl was the complete package. As I got to know her better I discovered her physical attractiveness was exceeded only by the beauty of her inner self.
Me? When dripping wet I weighed 135 pounds and wore a mullet that my kids, viewing our wedding photographs, would tease me about for years. Undershot jaw, immature beard, chewed fingernails, a problem wrist and bad ankles (the result of falling out of trees and off motorcycles in my spirited youth). Bespectacled, quiet and reserved. Peg’s parents accepted me, which was kind of them. They had likely wished better for their daughter. I always wondered what Peg saw in me. Of her many suitors I was the one she chose, though she never did tell me why.
We didn’t completely buy into the hippie culture but we wore the clothes, spoke the language and danced to the music of the times, losing ourselves in the promise of the future. As with most of our experimental generation, we were determined to let our imaginations and the nurturing environment of our peer group help us bring change to the world order. Big drugs and big dreams, both of which died a natural death when we realized that the only way to really make a difference was to become part of the establishment.
We were married in 1971 on a sunny July day. Peg was radiant in her homemade wedding gown. The bridesmaids, resplendent in red, carried bouquets of Flame Lily and White Orchids, Peg’s favorite. My parents, who had not yet met the bride because of an extended overseas posting, were a surprise show at the wedding and fell in love with her immediately. There could not have been a more auspicious beginning to our married life.
Post-secondary education complete and with degrees in hand, we boldly stepped out into the real world to begin our careers, Peg in marketing and me in the IT industry. We traveled extensively in those early years, both for pleasure and on business. Then, as throughout our married life, we were inseparable so that in time we learned to read each other’s thoughts and predict one another’s needs.
We became a true family in 1982 with the arrival of Jennifer and, two years later, son Mark. Jenny was a surprise, Mark we really had to work for although I can’t say either of us minded in the least. Life was so uncomplicated back then. All we focused on was being there for each other.
Peg excelled at taking care of me and the children. She was truly special that way. As the years slipped by she became increasingly driven to do something with her life that would fulfill her natural maternal instincts. When the opportunity arose, she went back to school and ultimately traded selling consumer products for a career in mentoring the health and well-being of humankind’s most precious of all resources – children. Our photo albums overflowed with her images, but not because she necessarily enjoyed being a model. She was simply everywhere the kids were. And, invariably, the camera caught her smiling or laughing.
There are only so many Christmases and birthdays in a couple of short decades and while our family enjoyed celebrating these special occasions together, time dictated that eventually the spell would be broken. Children have a habit of growing up. Soon, all too soon, they were college graduates and had moved out on their own. Mark had an environmental engineering degree and joined a construction company in a neighboring state. Jen’s qualifications were in Financial Planning. That left Peg and I working diligently towards our retirement. ‘We had earned our stripes’ and were entering our ‘golden years’.
****
‘Hey, hon. Wazzup?’ I remarked casually one fine day in late Spring. I kicked off my shoes and walked over to the kitchen table where she was sitting. Studying her more closely I thought she looked unusually tired.
‘Nothing,’ replied Peg in an off-handed manner.
‘You look exhausted,’ I observed as she sat holding her head in her hands. ‘We should order something in and get an early night.’
‘It’s nothing,’ she said again, getting up to begin dinner preparations.
‘Headache?’ I inquired.
‘No. It’s my back. There’s a pain in my upper back,’ said Peg. ‘It’s been there for weeks it seems. It won’t go away. Just keeps getting worse. And I’m short of breath all the time.’
‘Have you taken anything for it? The pain I mean.’
‘No. Not yet.’ Peg had hurt herself as a competitive diver at school and occasionally needed to take a couple of aspirin to relieve chronic pain in her back. More frequently she availed herself of chiropractic services to ‘get everything back in alignment.’
‘When’s your next chiropractic appointment?’ I asked. ‘If it’s next Tuesday, maybe I should come with you. I think I need an adjustment too.’
‘Actually, yeah. Next Tuesday. Maybe that will help. I haven’t had anything pinching in that part of my back before,’ explained Peg.
The visit to the chiropractor didn’t help. We liked Peter well enough. He had done wonders for Peg over the years keeping her mobile and relatively pain free but this time his manipulations had no effect. As the pain worsened, I suggested she make an appointment with the family doctor.
It was months later by the time she got around to making the initial appointment, followed by a series of tests. A curtain of early-morning snow on a mid-November morning obscured the roadway on the day we were scheduled to get the results. Plows were everywhere and driving was hazardous. Still, we were expected at the doctor’s office at 8:30 and somehow we managed in the blizzard to find the entrance to the office suite where Dr. Norman Kazowski had his practice.
‘Do you want to go in together?’ asked the receptionist. I looked at Peg but we already knew the answer.
We waited only a few minutes before Dr. Kazowski came into the office holding two files, both pregnant with papers, well-organized with section tabs and bound with paperclips.
‘Morning,’ said Norman as he seated himself behind his desk. There was a moment of silence. ‘In my profession,’ he began then, ‘it’s inevitable that sometimes we have to share bad news with our patients. I’m sorry, but this is one of those times.
‘Peg, you remember we took x-rays of your back? And nothing showed up, right? Then we did a CT scan. I’ve got the results here. I don’t how to say this any way but straight out. It looks like cancer, I’m afraid. Lung cancer.’ He was silent, then, though his eyes remained fixed on Peg waiting for her reaction which, presumably, would tell him how to proceed.
Peg and I were holding hands. I did not realize how vice-like my grip had become. On hearing Norman’s words she sat still for a long moment, looking directly at him. Finally she said, simply, ‘Oh.’ Then she turned towards me.
‘Dave, your hand. You’re hurting me.’ I relaxed my grip but not my gaze into her eyes, pleading for her to stay connected with me in this way. She was the first to look away.
‘What’s the prognosis, Norm?’ she asked. ‘We’ve known each other for a long time. I trust you’ll honor our friendship and not sugar-coat your answer.’
‘Well,’ replied Norman. ‘We have to run quite a few more tests before we can be certain, of course. I can’t say too much now but it doesn’t look very good. I’m sorry. The specialists believe the cancer is already pretty wide spread. The back pain you’ve been having means it’s probably gone beyond the lung lining into your bones. A bone marrow biopsy and MRI will tell us more. If it has spread, that limits what we can do from a treatment standpoint,’ he continued. ‘I’ve been in touch with Oncology at the hospital. Surgery doesn’t appear to be an option I’m afraid.’
‘I see,’ said Peg quietly. ‘Then what’s left?’
‘Chemotherapy is the standard,’ he replied. ‘Followed by a course of radiation. We can perha
ps slow the cancer down somewhat, but that’s likely all we can do. I wish you had come in to see me sooner Peggy.’
‘Would it have made a difference?’ I asked, having finally found my voice. ‘Seriously. Would it?’
‘Perhaps. It’s hard to say. But the earlier we find the cancer the more options we have,’ explained Norman.
‘And the better the prognosis,’ added Peg.
‘Yes but to be honest, with lung cancer it’s often pretty aggressive and in the end we’re mostly just buying time,’ Norman responded. ‘Peg, I’m writing you a script for some more painkillers and I need for you to make an appointment with the clinic downstairs to have some further tests run. More blood work, the MRI, a bone-marrow biopsy and so on. Once we get those results in, we can discuss more definitively what course of action is best to take. The sooner we begin the better.’
While Peg did well on the painkillers over the next few weeks, she tired more easily than ever before. She lost her appetite and was sometimes unsteady on her feet. The cough she’d had for quite some time got progressively worse.
Still, she found reasons to get out of the house as often as possible whenever she felt well enough. She especially enjoyed short trips to the corner store or going to the mall for an hour or two. Occasionally, on a warm evening, I would drive her to the park where we would sit on a bench by the pond and keep company with the ducks. But most days she was just as happy staying at home, curled up on the couch in the sun-room passing the afternoon quietly with a good book close at hand.
The kids began visiting on weekends even though for Mark this meant a five-hour interstate drive. Jen had moved to an apartment across the city to be close to her work but was within a relatively easy commute on public transit.
Family chatter was awkward at first. Mostly we limited our conversations to how the kids were doing at work or what movies they had seen. Yet as cautious as we were our discussions inevitably included some reference to the future. Whenever that happened we would sit in embarrassed silence, painfully aware of how our enthusiasm inevitably cut through Peg’s heart like a knife. She never failed to put us at ease, however, with a smile and an encouraging word. Often she would ask questions so that we could continue our conversations. She was determined to help us get past the feelings of anguish or despair that invariably arose.
‘I’m really looking forward to next May,’ said Mark innocently. His company had planned a weekend trip to Rhode Island for a handful of their best performing employees and Mark eagerly anticipated the opportunity to spend some relaxation time with his colleagues and immediate supervisor. As he finished his statement, he looked directly at his mother and winced.
‘Sorry, Mom,’ he said.
‘Nothing to be sorry for, Mark. If I can, I’ll come and caddy for you,’ teased Peg. ‘Who’s all going?’
‘Well, my boss of course,’ explained Mark. ‘And four other junior engineers … Jack, Paul, Sam and Sean. Sounds like a comedy team, doesn’t it? Anyway, Sam was a real surprise choice. No one figured him for one of the top performers but he’s really come along and seems to be enjoying the work now that he’s had a year under his belt.’
‘You should bring him with you one of these weekends,’ continued Peg. ‘You talk quite a lot about Sam. I’d like to meet him sometime.’
‘Okay, that’s a great idea,’ responded Mark. ‘If you and Dad don’t mind. I know Sam’s very partial to road trips.’
‘But not next weekend,’ I interjected. ‘Mom’s chemo starts on the Monday and I want her fully rested.’
‘Sounds like a plan,’ said Mark. ‘In a couple of weekends, then.’
****
It was early morning shortly before Christmas when we arrived for Peg’s first treatment at the chemo day-ward. As I took her arm to walk into the Oncology Center I was struck with how sparsely the foyer and reception area were appointed.
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Whereas Guenter H., Legally identified by passport no. … issued on … by …, Retired business executive, born on …, 1947 in …/Germany and living at … in D-xxxxx L…, Known in the net as slave gunnarsub and registered as Sklavennutte Guenter in The Slave Register under Registration Number 326-878-134, thereafter for purposes of this document, called "SLAVE" has agreed to give up voluntarily all legal, civil, and human rights in order to become the unlimited slave property of the OWNER and whereas...
The time was late in the spring and we were on a late night drivein the countryside watching for all of the new spring animals that wereborn. We spotted a doe that was grazing in the cool grass. My sister and I were on our spring break from college and didn'twant to spend our time in the local bars looking for men. We love natureand watching all the new growth that rises from the dead of winter. As we spotted the new doe, we left the safety of our car to geta closer look when we heard...
Overview of slave ownershipOwning a slave can be one of the most rewarding experiences of your life, but you will need to put some energy into training and taking care of your property to get the most out of it.Your slave must constantly be reminded of its place and must never be treated like a human being. Doing so will only confuse it and make the slave unsure of how to please you.The slave must understand that its sole purpose is to please its master(s). It must dedicate all of its energy to...
Chapter 1Charles Greene and his three mates were loitering around the lower floor of the mall. There were lots pf people in the mall. Kids running around and screaming. Cliques of women pacing around, carrying bags of purchases. Elderly couples eating their ice cream cones. Charles Green’s mates were also his classmates and their names were Jim, Casper and Norman. They had finally finished their secondary school education. They had finally finished school and were now on holiday....
Heather was waking up from her nap, and was regretting it already. She wasn't a nap person, and was now facing one good hour of headaches. It beat facing the full brunt of a seven-hour long flight, but for some reason, the headache was really severe this time."Hmmmngh...dammit..."She had shoulder-length dirty blonde hair and cute features marred by baggy eyes and a few freckles. She certainly couldn't be confused for a guy, even with her tendency to wear practical male clothing, but her body...
Heather was waking up from her nap, and was regretting it already. She wasn’t a nap person, and was now facing one good hour of headaches. It beat facing the full brunt of a seven-hour long flight, but for some reason, the headache was really severe this time. ‘Hmmmngh…dammit…’ She had shoulder-length dirty blonde hair and cute features marred by baggy eyes and a few freckles. She certainly couldn’t be confused for a guy, even with her tendency to wear practical male clothing, but her ...
Introduction: This is the complete version of my story Slave. Hope you enjoy it, please feel free to comment! Slave. I am a slave. I am owned, and happy to be so. I exist purely to please my Master, in every aspect of his life, and whatever I am doing I am always ready to serve him in whatever way he chooses. Around my neck is what appears, to the outside world, to be just a pretty silver pendant with a diamond initial on it. But to me it is so much more than that. It was the happiest day of...
Chapter one I become a slaveAs a college student I had to take any job I could get to make some extra cashworking part time. Being a bus boy at Hooters was not exactly intellectual buton the other hand you got to work with some great looking girls.After working there for about a week I went home and started to check my e mail.There was a message from this person calling herself "mystery girl at hooters"from hotmail. Naturally I was curious and opened the message which said:"You do not know...
I am a slave. I am owned, and happy to be so. I exist purely to please my Master, in every aspect of his life, and whatever I am doing I am always ready to serve him in whatever way he chooses. Around my neck is what appears, to the outside world, to be just a pretty silver pendant with a diamond initial on it. But to me it is so much more than that. It was the happiest day of my life, the day I received that pendant. I had not been serving Master for very long, just long enough for him to...
hese are some rules a guy had to abide by from a former master he had. He gave them to me to use on him as he showed me the lifestyle. 1. slave is to be naked at all times in the house. When with Master or when in a gay bar or other appropriate places, for example a leather event, it must wear its metal butt plug, 2 pound ball weight and its heavy chain collar, unless Master orders otherwise. slave is never to wear underwear unless given permission. When slave is in chastity, it does not have...
Slavery:When a man or a woman agrees to slavery they accept that a slave is not a person but merely an object, and consent, willingly to give up their privilege of being a human being and become, not even an animal but something even lower an object, a thing possessed by their owner for his or her convenience and use. Admittedly they are a thing which can think and feel and talk and see but, a thing nevertheless. They become the property of their owner who will take care of them as they...
Slave Rules 21. Slave should always remove clothing as soon as she/he gets home unless Master/ Mistress has laid out clothing for the slave or submissive to wear.2. Slave should fold clothes neatly or place them in the laundry whenever he/ she gets undressed.3. The slave or submissive is to kneel in present posture whenever the Master/ Mistress is due to arrive and wait quietly.4. Whenever the Master/ Mistress is present in a room, the slave must ask permission to enter in the following...
SLAVE SALES IN INTERNET START FROM MINIMUM OF TEN THOUSANDS EUROS NETTO COSTSSLAVE SALES IN INTERNET ARE STAGED FOR A CLOSED CIRCUIT: AN AUDIENCE OF AFFLUENTSSLAVE SALES IN INTERNET ARE STAGED FOR A CLOSED CIRCUIT ON FIRST FRIDAY IN A MONTH=================================================================================SLAVE SALES IN INTERNET START FROM MIMINA SET BY FIRST OWNERS OF VERIFIED VIRGINSSLAVE SALES IN INTERNET START AT TEN THOUSAND EUROS MINIMUM GROW BY FIVER STEPSSLAVE SALES IN...
Slave Girls in Bondage Chapter 72 Another dastardly plot! More innocent women bound and turned into slavegirls. While the travesty never end? I hope not. Her name was Shirley Simpson and she was a minor functionary in some partof some big company. Her office, for some strange reason, had an incredibleturn over in clerks. It seemed they were hired, and within a couple weeks,they would disappear. Nobody really cared except for the personnel office thatwas tired of filling out all the...
Slave to the Merciless Slave to the Merciless(By Pakislave) F+/m, cbt, modification, WaterSport, Young, scatology, D/s, feet, bondage, slavery, S/M, real, nc, humiliation, blackmail, torture, Extreme, Heavy.A young boy is entangled in the web of rich sadistic family, consisting of females. He always thought his guardian aunt was cruel to him. Wait till he learns his new status in the new household. Extreme!Part 1 ??????? I lived in a far-off village in the Northern Province of...
Mistress unties the leash of slave from under the reception table and gives it a tug. "Come" She orders as slave obediently obeys and follows his Mistress on all fours, always from behind. She walks Her pet down the center aisle as Mistress and slave for the first time. Little did slave know that instead of having flower petals for the guests to throw out into the aisle, Mistress provided them with tiny stones. Those tiny stones were now digging into the knees and palms of slave as he crawled...
Slave Tale By Semiater ([email protected]) My eyes were tired and I could hardly concentrate any more on the papers spread out before me. I’d gotten up early and started working on the edits of my book that morning, it had been hours since I’d even stood up and moved around. Reaching my hand under the desk I softly tapped on my thigh. Quickly, almost instantly, I felt my little pet’s nose working the folds of my boxers open and gently easing my hardening cock out with her...
Slave to Hooters Waitresses Chapter one I become a slave As a college student I had to take any job I could get to make some extracash working part time. Being a bus boy at Hooters was not exactly intellectualbut on the other hand you got to work with some great looking girls. After working there for about a week I went home and started to check mye mail. There was a message from this person calling herself "mystery girlat hooters" from hotmail. Naturally I was curious and opened the message...
Part 1 - SaturdayThere was a ring on the doorbell. I basically knew it was her, but I was still madly excited, as though I didn't know, as though there was a chance it wasn't her and I was hoping it was.Sure enough, there she was. Stacey looked fantastic, her brown hair drifting slightly over her eyes, her wonderful body perfectly shown off by her tight top and jeans."Hi, you ok?" I asked, smiling. I gazed down at her feet and laughed. "You know me too well!" She was wearing a gorgeous pair of...
Introduction: I am a slave who is owned in every way by Master. His pleasure is my only aim. He does to me whatever he chooses! Slave. Part one. 1. I am a slave. I am owned, and happy to be so. I exist purely to please my Master, in every aspect of his life, and whatever I am doing I am always ready to serve him in whatever way he chooses. Around my neck is what appears, to the outside world, to be just a pretty silver pendant with a diamond initial on it. But to me it is so much more than...
Slave1. I am a slave. I am owned, and happy to be so. I exist purely to please my Master, in every aspect of his life, and whatever I am doing I am always ready to serve him in whatever way he chooses. Around my neck is what appears, to the outside world, to be just a pretty silver pendant with a diamond initial on it. But to me it is so much more than that. It was the happiest day of my life, the day I received that pendant. I had not been serving Master for very long, just long enough for...
My nude restaurant opened with me as the maitre d' and slave Henry as the waiter. The guests keep their clothes on but the restaurant staff: slave Henry, myself and the kitchen staff of one Asian man and white women, are all nude and can be touched and groped by the guests. All the guests like slave Henry because he is so pleasant and has such a great, lean body. Each month, on Saturday afternoon, there is a special shaving party for slave Henry. The guests come around 2PM and...
So slave, I bet you’ve been looking forward to this day haven’t you, after all, it’s been a whole week since I last released you hasn’t it?”“Yes Princess.”“And have you followed my instructions about not allowing yourself to cum during that time slave?”“100% Princess.”She smiled and allowed her hand to gently slide across my stomach, towards my hard, aching cock.“Good slave, you look so gorgeous tied down like this, I could almost forget myself and…” her voice trailed off and my cock twitched...
Introduction: The story of Adam1992 continues when he turns 22. Please see Slave which starts the story of Adam1992. SLAVE–PART 2 Adam1992 was jolted awake before dawn when a dick started thrusting into him. Adam was bound as usual so that he could not move, but his legs were spread wide in case anyone should need him. He kept his eyes closed as the dick pounded into him again and again. Adam might have even liked it if hed been a little more awake, but his sleep had been frequently...
Introduction: In a future society where slavery is accepted, Adam1992 is bred and born a slave. This story is about Adams first six months after being purchased for the first time. SLAVE Alan Goodman had never considered himself to be a cruel man. He never thought hed be a slave owner, didnt really like the idea, not until he saw Adam. Alans good friend Matt had dragged him along to a special slave sale. It was special because it was only the crè,me de la crè,me of slaves, those...
SLAVE SALES IN INTERNET START FROM MINIMUM OF TEN THOUSANDS EUROS NETTO COSTSSLAVE SALES IN INTERNET ARE STAGED FOR A CLOSED CIRCUIT: AN AUDIENCE OF AFFLUENTSSLAVE SALES IN INTERNET ARE STAGED FOR A CLOSED CIRCUIT ON FIRST FRIDAY IN A MONTH=================================================================================SLAVE SALES IN INTERNET START FROM MIMINA SET BY FIRST OWNERS OF VERIFIED VIRGINSSLAVE SALES IN INTERNET START AT TEN THOUSAND EUROS MINIMUM GROW BY FIVER STEPSSLAVE SALES IN...
SLAVE SALES ON INTERNET ARE EVERY FIRST FRIDAY OF THE MONTH BUT FOR RAMADAN LIKE NOWSLAVES ARE VERIFIED VIRGIN SWEET STUDENT TEENS & TWENS BROUGHT FROM ALL OVER EUROPESLAVES ARE VERIFIED VIRGINS AFTER RENOMMATED PRIVATE UNIVERSAL PERVERSE UNIVERSITIES =====================================================================================SLAVE SALES IN INTERNET ARE POPULAR AMONG ARABIAN NOBILITY AS WELL AS ASIAN AMATEURSSLAVE SALES IN INTERNET ARE FOR MEMBERS ONLY WHO PAY FEES OF FOUR MILLION...
Adam1992 was jolted awake before dawn when a dick started thrusting into him. Adam was bound as usual so that he could not move, but his legs were spread wide in case anyone should need him. He kept his eyes closed as the dick pounded into him again and again. Adam might have even liked it if he'd been a little more awake, but his sleep had been frequently interrupted last night by sporadic visitors seeking his legendary ass for comfort. The man on top of him was grunting now, saying...
Tracey got up and rang the bell as the bus approached her stop. Clutching her handbag tightly she stepped off the bus and looked towards the big gleaming glass building to the right.At just over a month since her eighteenth birthday she had decided it was time to learn to drive and as part of that under the new rules for females she had to report to the licensing centre and have a medical completed.She started walking towards the building with some slight trepidation, she was naturally a...
After Mistress placed the chastity cage on slave's tiny clitty and slave placed the key to the cage around Her neck, T/they were officially Mistress and slave. That was the end of the ceremony and it was time to proceed to the Reception or Bridal Feast as Mistress prefers to call it. Mistress turned and tugged on the leash. "Come slave" is what She ordered before leading slave, who was crawling on all fours behind Her past the assembled guests, family, and friends. slave was still wearing it's...
Months after proposing to me to become Her permanent slave, which made me the happiest man alive, the big day had finally arrived. Mistress and slave had been planning the ceremony as soon as it became official and wanted it to be as perfect as possible. Mistress selected a beautiful farm which was well known for hosting weddings for the locale, but this ceremony would be different than what they were accustomed to.The guests arrived and were seated. Some of them were aware of our Femdom...
Oh, you've been a very bad Daddy, haven't you?" I smiled to myself as I looked through the recent sites list in the web browser. I was sitting at my father's desk, in his study, and I hadn't meant to snoop, I was just checking my email, but I'd happened upon the favorites list as I waited for the web page to load. And there it was, "Bound for Glory" neatly bookmarked, and so I'd instantly become more interested in what my dad was doing with his spare time. It was an odd feeling, seeing pictures...