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Diary of a Lesbian Love Slave Pt. 03

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As I laid there staring at the ceiling I had time to think through just about my whole life up to that point. I thought about my first kiss — that had been a girl named Melissa, who was a grade ahead of me. I thought about my first taste of pussy (other than my own). That had belonged to Karen Shelton, who was a classic cheerleader type, blonde and blue-eyed.

She was also straight, but that didn’t stop her from letting me eat her out every day for a month. Then she got worried that someone would find out, and she dropped me and never spoke to me again.

I thought about Vanessa, my first real girlfriend, who had been sweet and pretty and really dug me, but was kind of boring. After a month I cheated on her and that was that.

It was getting dark outside and as the minutes dragged by I began to wonder if I’d made a horrible mistake by coming to this house tonight, if I was a fool who trusted people blindly and deserved to suffer for it.

I had lost all sense of time when my Mistress finally appeared in the doorway. Without a word she untied my wrists and ankles, rolled me over onto my front, and bound my hands behind my back with a pair of handcuffs. Then she pulled me up onto my knees so my ass was sticking up into the air. I gulped; I had an inkling of what was about to transpire.

This spanking was different from the first one in two ways. It was done with a leather paddle rather than a bare hand. And unlike the previous day’s punishment, which had been almost playful, this one had kocaeli escort some real force behind it. Obviously I had messed up by not waiting for her to summon me; even at the time I had known that, I just couldn’t help myself. So I accepted my fate without complaint, whimpering a few times but not trying to resist or get away.

It hurt. But it was almost like the pain was happening to someone else — what mattered was that it was my Mistress’s will and that I was strong enough to take it. I was also aware of a growing wetness between my legs and a deep, aching sense of need.

When it was over I sighed through the gag. I wish I could have seen what my ass looked like at that moment. I bet it was pretty red — it was quite sore the next day.

I looked over at my Mistress, whose expression had softened. I could tell that she was pleased with the way I’d conducted myself, and I felt a sense of pride that was worth ten spankings. She reached over to her bedside table and returned with a small bottle, from which she sprayed a cooling mist onto my poor burning rear end. I had been holding back tears but now I let them out; not a flood of tears, just a single small stream from each eye. My Mistress tenderly wiped them away.

She removed the ball gag and leaned down to kiss me. Oh, what a kiss that was — sweet but forceful, the kind of kiss that makes your head spin and takes your breath away. When she released me I rolled over onto my side and looked up at Her with submissive admiration.

“Would you kocaeli escort bayan like to lick my pussy now?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” I panted.

“Yes, Mistress,” she corrected me.


After that day I didn’t get to see Her again until the next weekend. At the time I thought she was teaching me another lesson about patience; later I found out that she had been out of town on business.

In any case, it was absolutely and without question the longest week of my life. I couldn’t think of anything but Her and I knew that I could not under any circumstances initiate contact; all I could do was wait around for Her to summon me.

I tried everything I could think of to pass the time: reading, watching movies, going for long walks. But the minutes crawled by with excruciating slowness. By Wednesday night I was half out of my mind. I stole a bottle of white wine from the fridge, went up to my room, and locked the door behind me.

I don’t usually drink much, and I’m a lightweight when it comes to alcohol. After stripping naked I crawled into bed and drank myself into a stupor, occasionally touching myself and imagining that it was Her, then remembering that it wasn’t and sighing in frustration. After hours of this I finally managed to fall asleep.

In the morning something within me had shifted. Sunlight was streaming in through the window and I felt a warm sense of peace settle over me. Somehow I became certain that things would happen when they were supposed kocaeli escort to happen, and that all I had to do was surrender to the universe.

From that moment to this one, that sense has never left me.


At precisely 8 P.M. the next night I found myself, as instructed, kneeling naked on my Mistress’s front porch with my hands locked behind me back. It had been another brutally hot day, but the evening was mercifully cool; the neighborhood was quiet and my whole body was buzzing with excitement.

I looked down at my chest — between the crispness of the air and the excitement of the situation, my nipples were painfully stiff, jutting out in front of me with bold insouciance. Although the porch was shielded from the street by fencing and vegetation, I felt very exposed there, aware of my vulnerability and lack of agency.

The the door opened and I held my breath as my Mistress stepped out onto the porch. She looked more beautiful than ever, and from my vantage point on my knees she seemed larger than life. She smiled down at me and my heart melted. I wanted to say something to Her, to declare my everlasting loyalty, but at that moment nothing needed to be said.

In Her hand she was holding a studded black leather collar, which she now slipped around my neck and fastened behind me. “This means that you belong to me,” she said matter-of-factly. “You will will wear it whenever you’re here. Is that clear?”

I nodded, and she prompted me, “Yes, Mistress.”

“Yes, Mistress,” I repeated.

“Good,” she said. In Her other hand was a leash, which she now clipped into the ring on the front of the collar. Turning on Her heel, she headed back inside, and I followed on hands and knees, feeling my heart pound and my pussy throb with anticipation.

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