Chapter 1
I had known, almost from the onset of puberty that I craved to be dominated.
Of course it didn’t all come at once. This was no divine revelation but over the years,
as I became more aware of human sexuality in general and my own in particular, the
thoughts crystallised and then coalesced into an overwhelming craving to be a slave to a
handsome and very dominating man of considerable means. Means sufficient that he would be
able to afford to keep me as his slave: to use and abuse me. To demean me mentally and
physically and to exercise total and absolute power over me.
As I said, all this didn’t come at once. It took years and it didn’t finally come
together until I met Richard. In fact, at first, it was only flashes of excitement as I
read of a girl being abused in some way, or a tingling ‘down there’ as I heard of some
account of modern-day white slavery.
I didn’t pursue these thoughts as I thought them dirty and unbecoming of a girl in my
position. I was, when Richard met me, an up and coming commerce graduate working in the
marketing department of his father’s head office. I had come from a fairly strict
upbringing in the backblocks of New South Wales and lived a somewhat austere life in a
tiny flat on the North Shore of Sydney Harbour.
My conscious sexual thoughts centred on handsome boys I met at my local tennis club, a
sport I pursued with a great deal of zeal and which I was reasonably proficient at. It
certainly kept me fit and slim but I could in no way be described as a beauty. I suppose
‘fresh-faced, country-girl looks’ would best describe me.
I am fair with silver-blond hair that is fine and straight, blue eyes and a good figure.
I think my skin is perhaps my one good feature: it is olive in tone and smooth and clear
and I thought it perhaps made up for my lack of classic beauty.
I first met Richard when I was asked to go to his office to explain a new marketing
strategy my department had worked out. Normally one as junior as I was would never have
been given this responsibility to the chairman’s son but my boss was away and his deputy
was ill and so it came down to me.
I had of course seen him from afar quite often but it was only when I met him at close
quarters that I realised how handsome he really was. He had brown curly hair, brown eyes
and a complexion that always looked tanned. And even through his tailored suit I could
see he had a fine figure. He was at that time just on twenty-five years old while I was
two years younger. I think I blushed that first time as I realised I was sizing him up as
a sexual object.
He didn’t smile at me. He rarely did. He was always a rather serious person but I also
sensed an aura of repressed power and authority, more so even than that of his father,
well known in the company.
I explained the new strategy clearly and succinctly and I could tell he was pleased with
the presentation. After that, he often called me to his office to explain or discuss
something or other to do with our office until I began to realise the calls were rather
gratuitous. Not that I minded. The more I saw him, the more I fell for his good looks
and his rather aloof, imperious manner. I didn’t know it then but I was drawn to his
quietly dominating personality.
It was only a month or so after that first meeting that he asked me out. I accepted but
I was very nervous about it. After all he was the son and heir-apparent of one of the
richest and most powerful men in Australia while I was the daughter of a small-time farmer
in western New South Wales. But he was charming, in that aloof way of his, seeing to my
every comfort over the dinner (in one of Sydney’s most exclusive restaurants) and holding
me close at the dance that followed.
More dates ensued and we became quite close.
It was another month or so after the first date that it suddenly hit me. I loved
Richard. I knew that — but I wasn’t aiming to be his wife… I was horrfied and appalled
to realise that I wanted to be his slave!
This thought came crashing in on my conscious mind and I think it was then that I
realised that all the tiny little pieces of the mosaic had finally come together. I did
not wish to become the wife of anyone, no matter how handsome or how rich. I now realised
that I wanted only to be enslaved — really enslaved — to become the property of another
man — Richard Villiers…
I sat beside him in his Daimler — that’s the sort of man he was. Not for him the
Ferrari or Porsche but the sedate English limousine — and dreamed of crouching naked at
his feet, awaiting his decision on my punishment.
I was shocked. Yes, it was his punishment for some unclear offence that was then
enthralling my mind — and in my mind’s eye I was naked. I had always been rather a prude
when it came to showing off my body. I never showered with the other girls after tennis,
preferring to go home to do it in private and the various boys I had gone out with at
school and university had never been allowed to go beyond a kiss and sometimes a quick
grope in my blouse.
And yet, now, as he expertly drove the big car through Sydney’s notorious traffic and I
looked at his strong profile against the lights of the shops and the street outside, I
knew I wanted only to be in his thrall.
I didn’t mention it, of course. I thought he would be shocked to the core at such a
lewd and depraved idea but then, slowly. Very slowly and very cautiously I began to sound
him out on the idea of slavery. I was careful in the extreme. I loved this man who was so
dignified and austere and I didn’t want to make him think I was such an immoral creature
who craved such things. Indeed, I was appalled at myself when I finally realised where my
sexuality was at.
But then, as the weeks passed his responses to my little exploratory forays into his
mind began to change and he started to show a mild interest in the subject.
All this time we had dined out, gone to dances, visited his parents in their palatial
Vaucluse home (where I had been welcomed most warmly) and various other very pleasant
outings including Sundays on his yacht on the harbour, or picnics up in the Blue
Mountains, and the like.
We had become very close and the time came when he asked me to go to bed with him. It
was then that I laid my cards on the table. We were at his penthouse apartment and had
just dined after which he had dismissed his housekeeper for the night.
“Grace, we have been going out for six months. I love you and I want to explore your
body and your mind intimately. Will you come to bed with me?”
I looked at him with a great deal of love swirling through my mind and my heart. I
think my eyes misted over and I got up from my chair at the dining table to come round to
his. I knelt down beside it while he stared down at me in amazement. “What are you
doing…?” he began but I just laid my head in his lap for a moment then raised it again to
look directly up at him.
“No, Richard. At least not as your lover… I think it’s time I explained something to
you. Something about me.” He started to protest but I reached up and placed my finger
against his lips. “No, my love, let me explain it, if I can.
“I know now that ever since puberty I have wanted to be a slave. I didn’t understand
the thought, or the notion, or even the very idea of it for a long time and it has only
become clear to me over the last few weeks but as my love for you has developed and
blossomed I have thought long and hard and have had many sleepless nights as I tried to
wrestle with the problem of what was wrong with me.
“You see, Richard, I don’t want to be your wife — or at least your partner — but your
slave. If you wanted to marry me, say to justify my presence in your house, that would be
fine — as long as I was really your slave, body and soul. But if you merely wanted to
keep me as a chattel, I would be just as happy.
“As your slave, I would be totally in your power. I would expect that if I erred, even
in the slightest way, you would punish me — or have me punished in front of you. If you
desired to keep me naked, that would be your right. Whatever sexual pleasures you desired
from my body would be yours as of right — not because I bestowed them on you…
“So you see, I am saying no to your request to go to bed with you, but offering you my
body and my soul from this day on, to use as, how and when you wish.
“it is very likely that you will be appalled and shocked by my revelation but I just
feel that our relationship has come to a point where I had to be honest with you…”
This little speech I delivered as I stayed down on my knees beside him and as I spoke
the words I was desperately afraid he would pull back from me in horror and banish me from
his life for ever. And yet I felt I could do nothing else.
But then, as the words came tumbling out, his hand reached down and stroked my hair and
his face, usually totally serene, smiled lightly and his beautiful brown eyes misted over
— with love for me.
“Oh Grace, you can’t know how much I love you at this moment. You probably won’t
believe, either, that I too have had such thoughts, although on the other side of the
coin. I have wanted a slave to own and cherish for about the same time as you. Of course
they are rather hard to come by these days and as a result, my little flings with various
girls over the years have been most unsatisfactory and rather fleeting.
“You and I have been going out for some months now and I have wondered during that time
that I have kept seeing you, for I can assure you, it has been very uncharacteristic of
me. I must have sensed in you your yearning to be enslaved, even though it was an
unconscious recognition on my part…
“Very well, I accept your offer and I hereby enslave you. For the moment, you will
continue to live in your own unit and to go to work but you will know that in every
respect, from this moment on, I own you, body and soul, as you put it.
“In a moment or two, I shall wish to inspect my property but first, a few rules. At
first, we will maintain the same relationship between us as we have up to this moment. At
work it is known that we date but you still call me Mr Villiers in front of others and I
address you as Miss Everton. That will continue, except that in private you will now
always address me as master. There will however, be a few other changes.
“You always dress appropriately for a professional and that too will not change — except
for your underwear. From this moment on, you are not to wear anything at all under your
normal clothing. No panties or bra or slip. I will, from time to time, direct that you
wear a particular item of restraint under your normal clothing and for this I will have
the only key, but that is all…
“Right now, I think it is time I inspected my property. Strip naked!”
These last two words were said in a peremptory bark such as befitted a master to his
slave and I shuddered, not in fear but in a thrill of lust that I was at last in the
thrall of the man I loved and that he was going to make me his slave.
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