“Obedience is Love.”
“Either drop to your knees and beg to be my slave or get out and never come back.”
Warren dropped to one knee, paused in confusion.
“Ellie, why are you doing this? Don’t you love me anymore?”
“Call me Mistress Ellie. I love what a slave I can make of you. I don’t want a boyfriend. I need a servant. Serve me or pack your things.”
Warren first fell in love with his girlfriend’s eyes. They had seemed so kind and sweet. Now he saw only black contempt.
Their relationship began as a storybook romance. He felt it was evolving into a horror movie.
“But I love you.”
“Obedience is love. Obey me. Say it, ‘Obedience is love.'”
“Obedience is love.”
Warren had thought of Ellie as his protector. An aggressive woman, she stopped other people from taking advantage of him. Warren was gullible. And passive. She ran the household, made many of his decisions for him.
“Say it again.”
“Obedience is love.”
“Keep repeating it to yourself. Make it your mantra.”
“Please don’t make me be your slave.”
Ellie smiled. She had come to realize that Warren’s passivity had been the source of his original appeal. Most men would be angry. Her boyfriend begged not to be forced to do something when he could have just refused.
Warren’s weakness made him vulnerable. That he did not want to be a slave would only make his slavery more satisfying. He would be enslaved by his need for her.
Slowly she discovered her dominance and sadism. Controlling Warren felt good. Now she wanted total control.
“Take off your pants.”
Warren removed his jeans.
“Drop to the floor. Lower your head. Raise your butt.”
“Do it now.”
Ellie looked implacable. Confused, he assumed the specified pose.
Impact of Ellie’s riding crop made him jump.
“Stay still. Don’t move.”
By the tenth swat of the crop, Warren started crying. He started to rise. Ellie kicked him. Fear held him to the floor.
Ellie grabbed Warren’s hair. Pulled him to her face. Licked his tears.
“I love the taste of your pain.”
“Thank me. Say ‘Thank you, Mistress Ellie.”
“Thank you, Mistress Ellie.”
“Are you my slave or ex-boyfriend?”
“Your slave, Mistress Ellie.”
“Good boy. You may kiss and lick my boots in reward.”
Warren did not (yet) enjoy the taste of a woman’s boots. But he feared to refuse. Swallowing dirt and muck left him trembling with shame.
“We should consummate our new relationship. Come to the bedroom.”
“Down slave, I didn’t give you permission to stand.”
Warren crawled to the bedroom.
“Climb on the bed face down arms and legs out.”
Ellie had installed a set of bed bondage straps. She locked Warren in place.
“Look at this.”
She dangled a dildo and strap-on harness in front of Warren.
“I realize when I said consummate; you did not know I meant pegging.”
“Please, please don’t stick that in me.”
“Don’t be silly. We want only one penis in the relationship. Yours will be locked up. Slaves don’t have orgasms.”
The slave man cried as his Mistress Owner pounded him. He wept many times that day. The first day of a lifetime as a woman’s slave.