Chapter 1 - Stephanie

 

_My story outlines my descent into slavery: a most willing, total and complete process which began on the first anniversary of our wedding and continued until the birth of my first child. It was a process which I instituted myself and which I have largely stage-managed throughout, although, when I come to think about it, no, I believe there was something or someone else who was really pulling the strings.

As I say, it began on the first anniversary of our wedding. Gerald and I had been childhood sweethearts and we have never had eyes for anyone else. I was the only daughter of an extraordinarily rich man and Gerald, the only son of our neighbour at the London house in Park Lane.

When we were married, Gerald was twenty-three and I a year younger. We were, and still are, very much in love. Up until our anniversary, I had never had a single thought about slavery. Oh yes, I knew what it was and how terrible an institution it had been up to the time of its abolition in the Nineteenth Century, but apart from its history, I knew nothing of it in its modern version at all. But then, on that fateful morning, I woke first and, as was my wont, turned to look at the sleeping body of my handsome husband.

Yes, he was handsome, with his fine, soft, silver-blond hair, his tanned face and his beautiful body, which he worked hard to keep slim, supple and muscular by his love of gymnastics, but he was also a wonderful man. He had just the right mix of caring attention to and for me, while at the same time allowing me perfect freedom to pursue my own interests and of course I reciprocated. He was also marvellous with other people - all people. Class meant nothing to him (or to me) and he treated our servants as courteously as he did the highest peer in the realm, or the king himself.

As it always did at these times, I felt my libido rising as I stared down at his naked body but I quickly repressed it. We had had a wonderful night of unbridled sex before we had gone to sleep last night and while I would have delighted in another, we had things to do this day...

But then something came over me. It was a wash of love for him, but there was something else, too. I can't put a finger on it, but I felt this overwhelming urge to go down to the kitchens and bring up Gerald's early morning tea and toast.

We always enjoyed this half hour before actually rising when we would sit up in the bed and talk over the day ahead, his and mine, but we always waited for Milly, my maid or Peter, Gerald's valet, to bring it in.

Now, for some inexplicable reason, I felt the urge to go down and make it myself. I jumped out of bed, as naked as Gerald, and went down the grand staircase just as I was, stark naked and not caring one whit about it. That in itself was extraordinary. Gerald and I went about quite freely that way in the privacy of our own suite, but we never ever ventured out of it without being properly dressed and yet I seemed not to even be aware of my nakedness as I ran down the stairs, then to the passage that led back to the kitchens at the back of the castle.

Oh, here, I should say that when my parents died, I inherited a vast estate which included this castle in the Highlands of Scotland, the house in Park Lane and penthouse apartments in New York and the Gold Coast of Queensland, Australia, as well as an enormous portfolio of stocks and shares, commercial real estate and the like.

It was now summer and we had always spent the warm weather at the castle. It stood on a neck of land that reached right out into the loch and, like much of northern Scotland, was almost completely bare of any vegetation except grass and low scrub.

Gerald had not yet come into his fortune but he had a very respectable allowance and in any case, I could never in a million years spend even a fraction of my income so it was quite immaterial.

Anyway, I naturally passed some of the servants beginning their day's work as I made my way downstairs and into the kitchen. The surprising thing was that not a one of them, male or female, turned a hair at my nudity. Neither did they, by word, gesture or look, appear to notice it - or to even look at my body in a way that suggested salacious interest.

Like Gerald, I am fanatical about keeping it slim and supple for my beautiful husband. We eat sparingly and of healthy foods; we both exercise hard in the gym Gerald built in the old and unused orangery out on the side of the building, and we both play hard at our own favourite sports. And so my body, while perhaps a trifle athletic for some male tastes, is exactly what Gerald likes, just as his is to me.

The weird thing, I felt not the slightest qualm about appearing naked before them and, as I prepared the tea and toast, while Cook looked on fondly, we chatted as we always did about this and that.

And then I took it up to him.

By this time he had woken and was sitting up in bed but as I entered the room holding the tray in my hands, he, unlike the servants, stared at me in a mixture of awe and horror. "Steph! You didn't go downstairs like that?"

Now, for the first time, I realised what I had done but still it didn't faze me, not one bit. What I said was: "Of course, my darling Gerry ... slaves aren't permitted to wear clothes..."

Yes. I did. I really said it, without even thinking about it. Again he stared at me.

"Slaves?" he stuttered, paused as if trying to work out my words, then went on, somewhat inconsequentially, "Don't they? - but be that as it may, you aren't a slave and in any case, slavery was abolished nearly two centuries ago..."

"Oh no, my darling husband. Well, yes, that sort of slavery was, but I am now your slave and I expect you to keep me in line at all times..."

With that, ignoring the incredulous look on his face, I set the tray down over his lap and then knelt on the floor beside him. But he neither ate the toast nor sipped his tea, instead, just stared at my naked body in more awe, but now tinged with just a smidgin of lust.

I was pleased. In my own mind, I was now definitely a slave although I wasn't at all sure, not then anyway, what that meant - either for me or for Gerald, but I did know it had something to do with sex and while our loving was already great, I felt, somewhere right back in the dim recesses of my mind that there was a lot more about it of which we knew nothing and which needed to be explored. The look on his face told me that my naked body and my position of supplication to him was just right.

When I had knelt, it had been in an erect posture (not sitting back on my heels). I had kept my knees together but raised my hands up behind my head in what I knew (God knows how I knew, but I did) was the age-old position for a slavegirl to present herself to her master.

"So, you are now my slave, is that it, Stephanie?"

"Yes, master. I am definitely your slave. To do with as you will."

Now he looked a trifle confused. "How do with as I would?"

"Any way, master. Whatever pleases you, it will be my duty to perform.."

"But today is our anniversary, we were planning on spending it together, touring the back lanes of the highlands, lunching at an inn and then dining at Aberfeldie's in Aberdeen."

"And if that's what will please you, that's what we will do..." But then I paused and looked slyly at him as he now took up a finger of toast and began munching it - but not taking his beautiful blue eyes off me (and particularly my body) for a second. "And when we get home, my wonderful master, perhaps you might order me to perform that act which I have so naughtily refused."

At that, his eyes lit up. He had asked me to suck him and each time he had suggested we try it, I had said it was too horrible a thing to even contemplate. Stupid of me of course since I loved every part of his body and truly delighted in him sticking it into me, but there you are. We all have our little foibles, I suppose and that was one of mine.

Now, though, in the grip of whatever it was that was fuelling this weird quirk in me, I had thrown caution to the winds and had now offered my mouth for his pleasure. He was quick to respond, although he was clearly still not at all sure of what was going on. Hell, neither was I, but in my case, whatever it was, it was leading me places I couldn't fathom - but then, neither did I care.

But his mind was now catching on to what I was offering and he began to experiment. "And what will you wear on this outing of ours, my little slavegirl?" he asked.

"Whatever my master decrees," I said. "My birthday suit if he wishes..."

Now that was really way out. I am not and never have been a promiscuous girl. Gerald was my one and only love and yes, we had made love before we married, but we had been extremely careful about it and had both felt guilty afterwards. I had never worn revealing clothes or in any way flaunted my body at men. And yet I knew I was sincere in offering to go naked on our outing.

"Perhaps not totally naked," he said, but I could sense the regret in his voice. He was really getting into the swing of whatever was happening now and I exulted for I truly wanted to be his slave; his chattel; his thing - to do with as he wished.

What had happened to me? I have no idea. No idea at all, but it is still with us, even if now dormant, although, as far as I know, it hasn't affected a single other person except through me. It is just me - and I in turn affect those I come in contact with. More about that aspect as my story unfolds.

Right then, as my husband sat up in our bed, his beautiful upper body naked, its sharply defined muscles rippling and moving as he picked up his teacup or munched another piece of toast, I lusted after him with an intensity that was altogether new - but absolutely wonderful.

"Very well," he continued, "for our excursion through the hills, you will wear only the brief halter over your breasts and that short, wraparound skirt I like so much. There will be no necessity for underwear of any kind. You may however wear sandals on your feet as well."

My eyes sparkled. The halter he spoke of was small and I normally only used it while gardening or around the house on a very hot day. The skirt was ultra-short and heavily pleated. It was held in place by Velcro and was thus easily removed. I had an idea he was even now modifying our itinerary for the day and I was right.

"In fact, why don't you put them on now, let me see you in them as you will be in the car..."

"Yes, master," I said softly then rose, moved into my dressing room, which included a walk in robe, found the two items and put them on then returned to him.

"Excellent," he breathed, staring up and down my now extremely briefly clothed body in clear approval. In my new mental state, I had no qualms about going out in this somewhat indecent attire in public and apparently neither did he. And that too was strange, for the pair of us were rather conservative when it came to our public appearance, almost sober, in fact. But those thoughts didn't impinge on my mind at all, and clearly not on Gerald's, either.

Then he had another thought. We often showered together but we didn't actually wash the other's body. Now, he decided he would like me to perform this little service for him. He had finished his tea and toast and threw the bedclothes aside - to reveal his manhood in all its magnificently erect state. Oh what a wonderful part of him it was and how good he was at using it - or so I thought. In the months ahead, we were both to discover that our sexual play had been lacklustre, to say the least of it. Whatever was influencing us both - or rather, as I was to find out later, me, for it was only me or rather, my presence that created the acceptance by others of what I was doing or saying.

Thus the attitude of the servants to my nakedness and now Gerald's going along with my unspoken, or at least not detailed invitation to do with me as he wished, both right against the grain of their normal behaviour, came from me or through me, not directly from the power that was turning me into Gerald's slave.

He jumped out of bed and gestured for me to strip off the two garments and then follow him into our bathroom. And as I walked along behind him, I gloried in the sight of his beautifully rounded, but so boyish and muscular butt cheeks, alternately clenching and relaxing with each successive step.

Once in the shower I soaped him down, again delighting in the task while he stood there, flexing his muscles as I worked the soap over them. As you might guess, this inflamed the both of us so much he was instantly rigid, even more than he had been as he had stared up at me from our bed - and stuck it to me, right there under the sharp stinging spray of the shower heads. There were four of these and they really battered our bodies. We loved these showers but now that we were making love under them, it was a hundred times better.

I don't know how many orgasms he brought me to but he held back on his for what seemed like an hour - something he had never achieved before and after it, we needed a long cold shower to perk us up again.

I again dressed in the semi-revealing garb he had ordered for me while Peter, his valet, set out his clothes for the day, considerably more sedate than mine, although still casual. We went down for breakfast and the servants once again totally ignored what would have been up to this point, outrageous clothing for the mistress of the house.

And then we left, using the Jag sports, of course with its top wound back. Gerald kept glancing at me as he drove, especially my thighs, which were revealed almost right up to my hips by their brevity.

But then, as we flew along the bleak, windy roads of the Highlands, he ordered me to remove the halter so that my breasts were now free to the wind. I gloried in it - yes, really, although I knew very well that if I had done this yesterday, I would have been appalled at my temerity and shamed right down to the tips of my toes, and thrust them out to catch the rush of wind against them.

Then, a few minutes later, he gave me another order: "And now the skirt, slave, take it off, too."

Yes, I delighted in this too. Why wasn't I ashamed? Well I was, but I think it was that very shame that was helping to fuel my libido. I wanted people to pass us along the road and to see, or at least to catch sight of my nakedness as they motored past us but now, at least when it was safe to do so, Gerald's hand came out and stroked the muscular part of my thighs and even reached over to my quim.

"This will have to go," he said casually, as his fingers met the curly patch of my pubic hairs. "Slaves ought to be naked - and that means totally so. This hair hides your beautiful cunt, slave, and I wish it to be seen."

His use of that word was deliberate. He had said it coldly and quite calculatingly, desiring me to cringe for neither of us ever spoke such words but again it thrilled me, for by shaming me in this way he was adding to the rapidly rising state of my libido.

What I didn't realise was that we were heading to a part of the eastern seaboard of northern Scotland where there was a footpath that ran along the top of the cliffs. He parked the car and ordered me out. Again I cringed, which is rather strange if you think about it. I had quite unselfconsciously gone down to the kitchens naked and exposed myself to our servants and yet now I was cringing? Strangely, given all that had occurred so far that morning, I was able to wonder why.

But then, after I had thought it over, I came to the conclusion that whatever was masterminding this whole scenario was leading me into it carefully. If I had been self-conscious about going downstairs that morning, I wouldn't have done it. Right then though, I was under Gerald's thrall. I was his slave and I had to do as he ordered - and that made it all right. That's my theory anyway.

I got out and Gerald raised the retracting roof and locked the car then ordered me to precede him along the path. As we moved along it, he also cut himself a sapling and began to switch my bottom with it.

Then he had another idea. "Squat down, slavegirl," he ordered.

I did and then he climbed aboard my shoulders. "Now rise and walk forward."

He was not overweight by any means, but he was muscular and muscle is heavy! Nevertheless, somehow I managed to lift him and me into the upright position and now I had to carry him along the path.

Yes, we came across other people going the other way and they all stopped to watch us approach. Gerald was a little concerned at first but when one of them asked if I was his slave and seemed quite accepting of the idea, he had me let him down and then invited them to inspect my flesh, pointing out my better points as if he was trying to sell me.

He used his switch at these times to make me move an arm or a leg, to bend over and spread my legs to expose my anus and vulva to them and generally to underline the points he was making.

They all listened attentively, agreeing with his summation of my naked body and remarking how firm my breasts were or how flat and muscly my belly, or what nicely muscled buttocks I had, and so on.

Gerald wasn't vicious with these switches of the sapling across my flesh but I certainly felt them and they left lines - and yet each time he whipped me, I felt another surge of lust.

After that single stint of carrying me, he didn't repeat it, but he did make me run around him as he walked and I soon had a nice sweat up all over my flesh, a point the occasional walker we chanced on remarked.

-What a day that was. I gloried in it and I knew Gerald did, too. Oh he allowed me to resume my two brief items of clothing for lunch at the wayside inn, but then, when we got back in the car, off they came again.

That night, he had me wear a particularly low-cut and strapless evening gown but with no underwear at all, to our dinner and once more I drew stares at my audacity, but nothing but approbation from those we knew and who spoke to us.

And that night, the sex was even better, although it started with a sound spanking, with me bent over Gerald's naked thighs while his hands came down, again and again on my well-stretched bottom cheeks.

Then I had to suck him and once I had begun, I wondered what I had made all the fuss about. It was a delight to work my lips over his beautiful penis and when I tried deep-throating him, I found it too was not difficult, once I learned to control the gag reflex and was able to swoop right down on his shaft.

To that point, Gerald had not had a particularly good control over his libido, nor was it especially strong, particularly after his first ejaculation. If he wanted another go, it took a long while for him to erect again and then it was all over pretty quickly.

Now though, he was able to hold back for what seemed like hours and after he had shot his load, his cock was almost instantly hard once more. It was good for him, but it was even better for me, for now he was easily able to bring me to countless orgasms of my own.