Mistress had me give oral sex to a stranger today.
It’s the first time she’s done that.
A male friend of hers visited our new house today, and Mistress gave him a tour. Along with showing off her inorganic property, she showed off her human property – me. She bragged about how pretty I was to him, talking as if I wasn’t there, and after he agreed with her, she caressed my left nipple and pulled up my shirt to expose my breasts. After the man examined them, Mistress invited him to touch and play with them however he wished, and he massaged and suckled my breasts while I stood at attention.
After a few minutes of this, I asked Mistress if I should further undress, and she asked me if I wanted to, and I told her the decision was hers, and she ordered me to do so. After taking off my clothes, Mistress had me stand in front of the man for his inspection, and he began caressing my body (never once asking my permission, of course). Mistress bragged about how large my clitoris is, and the man responded by rubbing his fingers against it until I orgasmed to his satisfaction. Mistress then bragged about my mouth and asked the man if he wanted me to give him a blow job, and the man responded enthusiastically by pulling down his pants, and I got on my knees and gave him oral sex until my jaws were so sore I couldn’t take it anymore. I was very apologetic and felt ashamed that I wasn’t able to get the man to orgasm in my mouth, but Mistress told me later that the man had already masturbated today, and that he left very pleased with my services.
I wouldn’t have volunteered to service the man like I did. But I’m a slave, and Mistress wanted to impress her visitor, and I did what I was told.
I’m not ashamed in any way. It’s part of my life now. Giving oral sex to a stranger is like washing a stranger’s car – both would be jobs I wouldn’t necessarily desire to do, but I’d do it if Mistress wanted me to. She doesn’t even have to order me to do such things. I actively seek to find ways to please her, such as when I asked her if she wanted me to undress for the man. Or when I do the dishes and laundry without being told. For some people, stripping for a stranger doesn’t exactly fit in the same sentence as washing dishes, but for me they’re both part of my duties.
Last night I asked Mistress – practically pleaded with her – to please treat me like a slave in all respects. I told her how I’ve come to trust her deeply, and I want to give my life over to her. Mistress responded by saying that she would do as she desired with me, and that she has, indeed, come to fully see me as her slave. Every day she controls my life more and more as she sees fit, and she’s become very acclimated to having a human possession at her beck and call.
And I’ve become quite acclimated to it, too. I am a slave. And I’m happy.
La kajira!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On another note, I posted on a wonderful site (www.stuckposing.com) dedicated to the fetish of living statues. I put the following into a thread dedicated to a continuing story written by a man very dear to me (who is known as "Masteroftoys" on the StuckPosing site). The story is about a group of college students who stumble across a Jumanji-like game, but this one changes them into various toys as they approach the finish space. It’s quite enjoyable, and it can be found at: "Egnhcyot!"
Anyway, here’s what I posted …
Quote from: Masteroftoys on September 16, 2009, 03:37:55 AM
I have been working on a new story, but it’s only for a lovely little wind-up doll I know.
*smiles softly, her wooden limbs swaying softly on her Owner's strings*
That's a lucky little wind-up doll, I have to say, to have a story being written for her by so wonderful a Toy Maker as the author is.
I should know. He created me early this year.
One day in SecondLife, an online virtual reality, a woman was wandering a bit lost in an island dedicated to dolls. There she encountered the Master Toymaker, and after a long, tender process, he pulled a beautiful wooden ballerina marionette out of her heart. The doll went on to be with him for two wonderful months, cherishing the infrequent times they could be together. He would at times turn her into other dolls, including a China doll and, his favorite, a wind-up tin soldierette. She loved being a soldierette because she knew her Creator enjoyed her being one. At heart, though, they both knew what she truly was -- a wooden puppet whose life's true purpose was to dance on strings for the entertainment of her Creator and, when he would put on shows, for the merriment of children and adults alike.
That doll is me.
A lot has happened to me in both SecondLife and RealLife since then.
I am owned now in RealLife as a slave to a Mistress I love, who I live with and share her bed each night. It is a life that feels right and truly natural to me, and I enjoy it in so very many ways.
Isn't that what a slave is? An organic puppet in many ways? One flows into another, I guess.
I discovered a wonderful professional puppet theater in my city, and while I was there watching a delightful show, I purchased two marionettes -- a wooden girl with blond yarn hair, and a white unicorn foal. Together they have become best friends, and I hold them dear to my heart.
And whenever I am hit by stress and despair, I remember with joy my time as a wooden doll. And I imagine what bliss it would be to be that marionette, her one purpose in life to be a toy alongside her dearest companion.
The Master Toymaker taught me a great deal about myself. His insights into being a toy continue to touch me deeply to this day in numerous ways.
I told my Mistress today of how much I still dream of being a marionette, and she asked me why I felt that way. In response, I read to her this snippet from Egnhcyot:
“Well that’s because you aren’t used to being a rag doll, it’s not all bad.” with that Jason reached out and grabbed her by the wrist, then pulling her onto his lap he gave her a bear hug.
Melt.
That’s all that went though Jenifer’s head at that moment. For some reason everything in the universe felt “right” she had an owner, he was playing with her, she was clean, her dress presentable.
Melt.
Looking around she noticed the shop seemed to change suddenly. No longer dark, but brightly lit. beautiful. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw Aisha still dancing, but now she seemed to be doing so in a completely different way. Before it seemed simple, but now it was simply stunning. And Aisha herself seemed to be glowing. Or at least had an aura around her that let Jenifer know she was special. As Jason released her from his embrace she was able to see June and Phoebe lacked the aura effect. But Jason seemed to glow to such a degree it made her wince when she first looked at his face.
“See, Not so bad is it?”
Words so wonderfully crafted such as those show without any doubt how beautifully and perfectly the Master of Toys understands the hearts of us who are not-quite-human in our dreams.
I long to read the conclusion of this story, but I understand, indeed, how muses can lead a writer astray. I just want to make sure the Master of Toys knows that he's missed in many ways by some people, and that they wish for him joy, love and success while thanking him for all he's done.
-- Wilma the Marionette
~~~~~~~~~
On a final depressing note, I didn't get the job I interviewed for two days ago. I cried off and on all afternoon about it because I had been so extremely confident I would be hired. Mistress didn't like the way I was acting, but she was very sympathetic and loving the entire time. In case anybody hasn't guessed yet, I'm slightly bi-polar, and I'm prone to extreme ups and downs in my moods. Mistress is doing all she can to help me in times of stress. I'm her property, and when Mistress collared me, she accepted the entire package. Very few slaves in this world could ask for anything more wonderful. *smiles softly and tenderly*
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