Chapter One
Dressed
My life has changed in ways that are difficult for me to comprehend, but I must state
right now that, initially, it was what I wanted to experience in the worst way imaginable,
although, as matters have since evolved, not as deeply and permanently as has come to
pass. I knew right from the first that it would be a long and arduous process, but was
both mentally and physically prepared for what was to come... I thought. However, before
going too much further with the tale of what has happened to me over the years that have
ensued, I should first give a little background on how I came to be where I am.
After discovering our mutual desires during our dating of nearly six months, Master and
I decided to get married. We had been together about two years with me living as his
full-on, 24/7/365 slave. Believe me, it’s hard work for two people to move into this
lifestyle, no matter how much they both wish to, but we proceeded with the usual trials
and tribulations. During those months after getting married, everything finally began to
gel while we became far more in tune with each other and our chosen roles.
Toward the end of the second year, we made the decision that I would be fitted with a
full range of purpose-designed bondage ‘jewellery’ and custom-made restraints, although I
didn’t realize at that point that nearly all of my decorations would be non-removable.
Before proceeding with anything though, Master required that I get a complete physical and
a set of comprehensive dental examinations. He wanted impressions made to ensure that what
was to come would be safe and not cause me any undue hardship in the course of my everyday
life. He told me that these procedures were all quite necessary, for the equipment and
some of the stuff I was going to wear would be invasive and intimate. Of course we
discussed what I was to be fitted with, although the plans of which I was unaware. Some
weeks after all of the examinations were completed, I went into the hospital to have both
of my two lower ‘floating’ ribs removed and of course, I agreed to the procedure, but
wondered why it was deemed necessary. While I recovered, he told me that they had been
taken out so that I could wear the tightest of corsets and since I’d always liked the idea
of corseting, but had not pursued it avidly, I was intrigued. He explained that now I
would more or less have to wear a corset and the use of the restricting garment would
enable me to wear my new costumes with proper security. This rather vague explanation
didn’t really satisfy my curiosity, but what could I do? Other than leave him, of course,
and I couldn’t really refuse, given that I truly wanted to experience a complete
subjugation more deeply. I wasn’t about to abandon the situation I’d craved since early
puberty and at last found. After the incisions healed, the next part became apparent when
I was fitted with the first corset. At first, the long garment was very uncomfortable, but
I soon became accustomed to it, then to my horror, discovered that I was now always
required to wear the thing to give me the support that the removed ribs had provided! The
corset was a decidedly unwelcome addition to my wardrobe, but was definitely needed and so
a long, compressing one became a normal part of my daily ensemble. At the same time the
ribs were removed, a dental surgeon had also extracted two molars on each side of my lower
jaw and I was puzzled by this additional surgery, but after a while gave it no thought,
slowly growing accustomed to the gaps.
I’d always had a strong fascination with piercings and had already done my ear lobes, as
well as a couple of decorative labia rings, but these weren’t quite enough for my Master.
After making frequent mention to him of my desire to get more, sometime later he informed
me that arrangements had been made for me to be additionally pierced and fitted with new
and much more ‘permanent’ jewellery. Shuddering inwardly with part-terror and part-delight
at his use of the word ‘permanent’, I agreed.
His next revelation was that a few weeks after getting the piercings and having the
jewellery emplaced, I would then be fitted with a comprehensive, full body and limb
restraint ensemble that would constantly restrain and control me as he required, seeing as
how I was his slave and possession. He informed me that he wanted to ensure I was always
kept aware of my status, while at the same time knowing that his own more severe
requirements were being met in full measure. In our darkest, most secret pillow whispers,
I’d asked for something like this to happen and he’d promised to have me adorned with
permanent ankle and wrist cuffs and a collar after we’d been married, as well as the other
pieces, but he hadn’t specified what these were to be. Now it was time and I was to have
my wishes fulfilled in spades, but I began to have second thoughts and wasn’t truly sure I
wished to proceed, even after agreeing. However, he was adamant because his dreams and
desires were also to be realized and so it was entirely too late for me to back away. He
was my Master and so if he required that I be fitted with any particular item, or that I
wear a certain type or style of clothing, then it was my unalterable command to execute as
per his direction.
The preceding is not to say that I’m spineless jelly or a totally subservient person,
but I’ve recognized that I need some sort of strong structure and stability in my life and
so had come to understand and accede to his requirements. Unfortunately, I also have a
rather short temper at times and tend to become more than a little sharp-tongued when
things don’t go in the direction I think they should. One would think that at 22 years of
age, most women understand and accept their monthly bouts of PMS; accommodating to them in
their daily lives, but mine have always been most distressing. I react badly to my monthly
hormonal tides, becoming quite a bitch to live with during those times and of course,
Master became aware of this soon after we began our relationship. On far too many
occasions, he’d been the recipient of my ill-timed and intemperate comments and had
finally reached the point that he informed me he was going to train me out of these
outbursts and behaviour patterns, or I would have to leave.
I accepted this ultimatum and agreed to abide by any of the conditions he decided to
impose, for by that time I’d slipped deeply into my role as his slave. Basically, my
acceptance and agreement were foregone conclusions and truly, I had no option but to do as
he wished.
Until this point of our relationship, about a year and a half after getting married,
he’d encouraged me to wear pretty much what I wanted, but over the next six months, that
facet of my life also began to evolve in new directions, and I wasn’t sure I liked where I
was being taken. He commenced these changes by insisting that from that point forward, I
was always to wear skirts or dresses, then, the length and weight of the skirts quickly
grew longer and more restrictive. Within another three months I had no other clothing in
my wardrobe than floor-length garments and too, he insisted that I not wear any sort of
panty, but only stockings and a garter belt, together with a minimum of five cm heeled
footwear, be it shoes or boots. He ensured that I did so by obtaining ankle strap shoes
and boots that could be locked onto my feet and this he did every day before leaving the
house. They were only removed when we went to bed, although soon, even that changed. More
and more frequently, I wore some sort of footwear all night, every night, and although
this took some getting used to, I managed fairly well. The next stage of my training came
when he gradually began increasing the height of the heels until soon I possessed nothing
shorter than 15 cm ones! Initially, these were very difficult to wear on a full-time basis
and I didn’t like them at all, but having them locked on, I could not escape them and so
had no choice other than to endure as best I could, even though slowly becoming more and
more acclimatized. I sat as often as possible to ease the wearing of the footwear, but
that too was also destined to change.
My upper body wasn’t ignored and his declaration that I was to begin wearing tight,
constricting bras and turtle-necked types of tops at all times was not happily received or
complied with, however I wore them anyway, for I had nothing else available. Mother Nature
had been kind to me and I have a good figure: being some 1.6 metres tall, 55 kg in weight
and with a nicely proportioned body. My bra size was 90 cm with what is commonly referred
to as a DD-sized cup, and combined with a narrow waist of 60 cm, now corseted down to 50
cm, and hips of 95 cm I knew that all of the men I met lusted after me. My hair was
another matter. It used to be a thick, glossy black mane and below shoulder length, but my
crowning glory has become a thing of the past. I’m totally bald now and while I am still
permitted to appear in public, had to wear wigs all of the time. Master insisted that I
become this way and at first, I was only shaved, but he spent a lot of money to have all
of my body and head hair completely and permanently removed, including my eyebrows and
eyelashes! It was a long, drawn-out process and not without some considerable discomfort
and outright pain when my pubic hair was excised, but it was eventually accomplished. From
that point on I was only required to go for the laser electrolysis once a month and each
succeeding visit grew shorter and shorter, for re-growth of the hair roots was almost
totally eliminated. Four months after I’d started, there were none left anywhere on my
head, limbs or body.
The clothing I was permitted to wear was about to become even more concealing and
restrictive, but there were soon to be good reasons for this change, and I definitely
wanted it to be that way! After he’d seen pictures of how Saudi women were required to
dress in public, Master spent considerable time on the internet researching their
costuming and how it could be obtained, and then some weeks after he’d begun his research,
a courier company began to deliver large, relatively light cartons to our home. He
instructed that they were not to be opened and of course, I was curious as to what the
packages contained, so it was with great difficulty that I left them untouched, stacking
them in the basement.
I should explain here that Master is quite well off financially and that we live in a
large home far out in the country, behind a high wall. The 50 acres of land surrounding
this small estate are well cared for by hired gardeners and so there is no need for us to
do any sort of maintenance. Before we met, he’d had the house modified to suit his desires
and paid-off the assorted authorities to ensure that the changes and additions never
appeared either in the house plans held at the local municipality’s engineering office, or
on the contractor’s records.
Once I’d settled in, he took me on a tour and it was then that he revealed the secret
playrooms, or, truth to tell, the dungeon and cell complex that had been created.
Initially, he’d had a deep trench dug and at its end about 150 metres behind the house,
he’d had a large deep hole excavated. Within it, a new and very substantial construction
had been created, connected by a thick-walled tunnel to a vault-like door hidden in one of
the basement walls. All of the walls of the secret complex (both interior and exterior),
the floors and the roof were made of thickly re-barred concrete, 50 cm through, then, when
everything was complete; the entire set of structures had been covered with five metres of
earth. Grass had been allowed to grow naturally and trees were planted in a random
pattern, allowing nature to take its course as the master camouflage artist. No one other
than the construction crews that had built the place knew it existed and he’d ensured
their silence with substantial payments for signed secrecy papers.
The only entrance now to the hidden complex was via the thoroughly concealed vault door
in the wine cellar, then the long tunnel to the complex. Both ends of this connecting
corridor were secured by a set of doubled doors: one of each set being a hollow, 10 cm
thick, plain steel slab that locked like a bank vault door and the other a tightly barred,
inner one, two metres further along. All of these doors required power to open or close
and each had its own electronic lock with the default setting being that of staying locked
until power was restored and the correct combination used. I was frightened yet aroused by
his security and secrecy arrangements, but came to love the edge of horror and fear that
his ingenuity and dedication had created. I was occasionally locked into one of the cells
and left for the night, but that was also to change and become more the norm, rather than
the exception.
We lived alone with no children, close relatives, or other social encumbrances and were
quite content with our lives. Master has a wide selection of friends, although each seems
to be in ‘the scene’ in one way or another. Before I came into his life he’d entertained
frequently, but that changed dramatically after we got married and we became, if not
hermits, then almost anti-social. With his estate being so isolated and concealed behind
the high walls and locked gates, I occasionally got lonely and despite finding some solace
and companionship on the internet and TV, there was not much in the way of intellectual
stimulation. They were however; better than nothing and having a deep streak of curiosity
in my make-up as well as being the benefactor of an excellent education with a Master’s
degree in biotechnology, I occasionally found things of interest.
That brings me up to date, and so you know a little of what my life was like at the
beginning of my journey into total slavery and bondage. I was about to discover just how
well-connected and deeply into the realization of his fantasies Master truly was, for he’d
taken a break from his hobby job as a financial analyst, and intended to take me further
along my path to becoming his completely-controlled possession.
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