Day 1 of 365 as slave; 180 before surgery

I was to meet him at the Chatanooga airport though his family cabin is in North Carolina. I met the other woman in his life he calls “Mility.”  She said nothing when I said hi. She just sat there in the driver seat, eyes staring out into space as “Master” put my bags into the back of his red F150 or was it a 250? Either way, I can never look at a Ford F150 the same again. It was a long drive back to the cabin.

He, she, we are in his cabin for his birthday retreat before heading back to his home in Florida. The city in florida is the same name as a city almost every Italian hates. I’ve never been to Florida before and I was pissed that I had to fly to shitty podunk Tennessee and spend time in North Carolina before having to go there.

I saw a lot of references to bears, be they bear rugs, quotes on placards, paintings, etc. Fishing references of course but I’m more put off by bears than fish. His surname is Foster so naturally Foster’s beer neon sign hangs proudly above the pool table in the basement. His family doesn’t even drink that brand of beer.

He showed me around the cabin. When we first got to the cabin, he parked the car, put a collar and leash around my neck and told me to hop onto the back of the golf cart. The golf cart was wet. I didn’t want to destroy my sweater. He said, “you should be naked, but we have neighbors and that’s the only reason you’re not. Sit down.” In other words he doesn’t give a crap about my sweater.

Master instructs Mility to show me how to make and serve him a rum and coke. She pours rum into a red plastic cup, then opens and empties an entire can of Coca-Cola into the cup. She kneels before Master, dropping her head and raises the cup up above her head for Master to take it.

After the golf cart tour around the compound he sat me down–nay, made me kneel on the patio before him. He told me I am his birthday present (the next day would be his 34th birthday) and tried to get me to extend the yearly slave contract to 18 months. He says it’s fate that my name is like the 3 muses. He won’t give me the real name of Mility or how they met, but he nicknamed her that because it’s one of the 3.

He snapped at me for sitting on the couch and proceeds to turn me over, spanks my bottom 3 times as punishment immediately. In front of the retarded looking bitch he already had as his sub, housemaid, chauffeur or whatever cooking dinner in the kitchen. I don’t like being spanked in public. It’s not sexy at all.

He told me I am a slave, therefore should not be sitting on furniture. White slave doesn’t sit on the furniture either. Master says “Ask her how long it’s been since she sat on furniture” I ask her. She rolls her eyes back and says “about a year and a half”

The family cabin has a slew of puzzles and games. I want to work on a puzzle. Master wants an interactive game that we can all participate in. We play jenga instead. White slave Mility doesn’t play as much as she is fixated on dinner. Dinner is bland, not to my liking but I don’t complain.

Near bedtime master puts a blanket on the floor of the bed and puts a collar on me, chains the collar to the bed, and locks it. Mility is naked on the bed next to him.

I get up in the middle of the night and ask permission to use the restroom. Master is annoyed. This is not the first time of the night I am up talking either. The first time I tell him I need kleenex. He commands white slave to get up and get it for me. Mility gets a box of kleenex and serves it to me in a kneeling stance (the box isn’t over her head though as I am in a lower position on the floor). I’m taken aback by her nudity. She is kind of doughy, not in shape, wide but not fat, you can tell she eats a lot of junk. I am very tone and skinny compared, but it doesn’t matter–she has seniority over me. She, after all is sleeping on a bed.

Master forbade me from closing the door to use the bathroom. He stands there watching me as I squat over the toilet seat to pee. He comments on my squatting as “standing” to pee. I ask him why does she get to sleep on the bed and I don’t. He snaps, “You’re nowhere near on her level!”

I go back to the chains and blanket on the ground next to his bedside to try and get some sleep. I think, what have I done? Will  this all be worth it in the end? Will I be able to look in the mirror? After the surgery, will I still be able to look in the mirror and like what I see?



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