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Memoirs of my Master and Me

Length: 25 pages18 minutes


She once had a normal life, until she met the man she now knows only as Master at a BDSM party. He had set his eyes on her, had offered to take her into a dark world of pleasure, pain, and discovery at his hands, and she had accepted. Captive in his dungeon, she starts to bend to his will and his expert hands.

Seven days in, Master has demanded she recount her trials for him, and so she writes, reliving the ecstasy of her beginning as a slave in training.


I was taken seven days ago. I had been jogging through the park when his car pulled up, a Rolls Royce, long and sleek. I had signed on for this, but it was a surprise all the same. I didn’t even have time to scream before he dragged me away. He was stronger than me, as I knew he would me, and but I struggled for the excitement of it. I’d fought still inside the silence as his driver guided us away from my old life, but no one could hear. No one could see past the tinted windows to the man holding down his willing prey, caught in the snare his passion and my curiosity had wrought.

I’d met him weeks ago, at a BDSM party of like-minded partners. He hadn’t touched me at all then. Just looked. He’d asked me about my childhood, my tastes, my dislikes. Everything about him made me shiver in anticipation, and when he suggested I become his slave, I had no will to disagree. I’d never wanted anything more. We’d drawn up a contract, and I had my out if I ever wanted it. Then, in all his spectacular wealth and flair for drama, he’d put on a great show of acquiring me for his own.

I call him Master now. I never learned what his birth name is. I don’t care, because he doesn’t want me to know.

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