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 alwaystowear 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