My introduction to power transfer

My introduction to power transfer.

I had a great marriage, my husband earned an obscene amount of money, we loved each other, and lived an a large house in leafy suburbia. I played tennis and golf , swam daily, and met the girls at the health club.

Then one awful day, my husband announced he was leaving me. I got a reasonable settlement, and the house. I would never be short of money, but I searched on the computer for some sort of voluntary work to keep me occupied. I derived a lot of pleasure from the computer, and yes, they were right in the press when they said it can become addictive.

Soon, my searches got wider, and I thought I would, just for fun, try some of the sex sites. Within days, it was how I spent a large proportion of my day, seeing just how explicit they could be. Then I found that what really excited me was seeing young girls tied up and abused.

That was how it started, then I joined a site, using a false name and a new email address,  which introduced you to like minded people. There were a surprising number of contacts looking for power transfer, 24/7.

I had email chats with a few, but it went no further. However, eventually I arranged to meet three men.

The first was not prepossessing, and clearly was not my type, the second was better, obviously well off, chatted amiably, and had some good ideas he wanted to try. But he was rather coy about where he lived and his real name.

I had arranged to meet the third at a rather nice restaurant, at a precise table next to the window. As I walked towards the door, I saw him, and unbelievably, recognised him as a colleague of my husband, with whom we had socialised.

I quickly decided not to go in, then thought, well, it will be the same for him, and I would be free of worry about who he really was, and where he lived. And he had the influence and money to carry out things properly. If either of us got too embarrassed, I would get a good meal, and we would keep each other’s secret.

His astonishment at seeing me was comic. However, he knew how to behave, welcomed me, said what  a lovely surprise, how sorry he was about the marriage, promised faithfully not to tell my husband about the meeting, especially as he would need to disclose his role, and we made small talk and ordered. He asked what I was looking for and why. I told him about the feelings I was getting from bondage and domination pictures, and was looking for a longish term relationship where I surrendered control completely, to someone who knew what he was doing. He commented that there was synergy, and it could be a  mutually rewarding experience.

At the end of the meal, as we sipped the last of the wine, he said that the next move was up to me, and if I wanted to we would remain acquaintances who met socially, but if I wanted to pursue matters, I was to email him and he would come round to discuss details.

I mulled it over for a week, then decided to take the next step, and sent the email. He replied, he was free that evening, and he would call on me at seven.

When we were sitting in the lounge, he explained that he was looking for complete control, and there would effectively be no limits. I would need to arrange to suspend my life for, say, a year. I would disappear into his house, and obey his every command.

Suspending my life was not easy, I replied, and it would take about a month to set everything in place. I was prepared to accept no limits, but I would want him to sign a letter, which my solicitor would hold, guaranteeing that I would be released, with no permanent harm, in one year, which she would open one month after the year was up, if I had not contacted her. In return, I would sign a letter saying I was operating of my own free will, and would accept whatever he wished.

He wanted to tell me some of the things he had in mind, but I did not want to be told.

There were conditions, I was to have all my body hair waxed off at a clinic, I was to have my septum and nipples pierced, and each cunt lip pierced twice. A supply of birth control pills was to be arranged. I would not be allowed to speak unless ordered to, I would be naked at all times, and he wanted whatever I did to be done, as he put it, without hesitation and with enthusiasm. I would be punished for any infraction, or just for his pleasure. I was to come to him wearing a dress and sandals, nothing else, and no ornaments of any kind.

We drew up and signed the letters, and I said I would email him when I had completed the formalities.

That was easier said than done. My solicitor, who was a good friend, was intrigued that I was giving her power of attorney, going away without contact, my house was to be let furnished, my car sold, and the income from all my investments frozen. Then the letters, in one envelope, to be opened in thirteen months if I had made no contact. And my will was redrawn, leaving most of my estate to my godchild and two nieces, with some substantial amounts to charity. I cancelled all my subscriptions and standing orders, and arranged to have my phone disconnected.

Then family and close friends had to be told. It was accepted as my way of dealing with the break up.

In the meantime I had gone to a very expensive clinic in London. The piercings were done under anaesthetic, so no pain, and discreet bars placed in each, although I was sore for about a week afterwards, and the waxing was carried out.

Finally all that was left was to pack all my personal belongings, and put them in storage. On that day I had arranged to arrive at his house, so everything bar one dress and a pair of sandals was included. My rail ticket was purchased, and I had sufficient money in my hand for two taxis, so even my trusty handbag was stored away.

I got to the station in good time, and walked round the corner to leave my keys with Julia’s receptionist, a day earlier than I had said. I wondered if it was obvious that I was naked under my dress. It felt like it. Then I sat in the train. I had allowed myself first class, so  was alone in the carriage. I thought, I have no belongings, my home would have new residents from next week, and eek, I had no mobile phone. I almost felt more naked without a mobile phone than underwear. I had no idea what lay ahead, but all I felt was excitement, not fear. It was only a forty minute train ride, and then a taxi ride. I gave him a pretty large tip, all the money I had, and walked up the drive, to the front door, and rang the bell.

When he opened the door he just said ”Dress” and held out his hand. I quickly pulled it over my head and handed it t him. Then “Sandals”, so I slipped them off. Then he wrapped the sandals in the dress, and handed them back, pointing towards his refuse bin. I walked over and dropped them in. He turned, ordering me to follow him, as he walked into the fairly grand hall.

“Hands behind head, feet wide apart”, he barked, and I quickly complied. He examined my breasts, and the piercings, and I was then ordered on to all fours, and my head pushed into the carpet. With his feet, he spread my ankles, then bent down to examine my rear, and through my legs to the piercings in my cunt lips. I was pulled upright, and led down some stairs into his cellar, or rather dungeon. “I intend to show you your position here, slave”, he said, and my arms were put into manacles hanging down from the ceiling, and hoisted, until I was on tiptoe. Then he put my ankles into straps at each end of a bar, which was telescopic, enabling him to spread my ankles apart, until I was off the ground. A large ball was pushed behind my teeth, and the strap attached buckled firmly behind my head. Then he caned me on my buttocks. Hard. It was one thing seeing pictures and fantasising, it was another being in considerable pain, unable to speak, or even scream.

When I thought I could take no more, he stopped, only to pick up a flogger, and he proceeded to whip my back, and then my breasts. It was quite an introduction, and for a moment I thought I had made a terrible mistake. Then as he stood in front of me, I thought, this man has me entirely in his power, and I am just a plaything, which was very erotic. He let me down, and I knelt.

He removed all the bars from my piercings, and replaced them with large rings. I also had large rings placed on my ear lobes, which had previously been home to small but expensive earrings. I had a collar placed round my neck, and padlocked, and leather bands round each wrist and ankle, also padlocked. Each of these restraints also had rings attached, which meant he would be able to restrain me in any way he chose.

This he demonstrated, first a simple band across the top of my head, with a clip in the centre. My hands were fastened to the back of my collar, my ankles were spread by a bar. Then I had to kneel forward taking my head down towards my feet. My nose ring was chained to my cunt rings, by a chain which barely reached. My breast rings were also connected to my nose ring, forcing my tits up. Then a third chain from my nose, back over my head, through the clip on top of my head, down my back, through my cleft to the other cunt rings, forcing my head back and my mouth open. To describe this elaborate arrangement as uncomfortable says nothing. I could not move at all without pain in some part of my body. If my head went down, I was pulling on one of my cunt rings, if it went up, I was pulling on my tits and the other cunt ring.

In this terrible position, I was then forced to take his cock in my mouth, not gently, as I had done with my husband, but with great thrusts down to the back of my throat. When he shot his load right into the back of my throat, it was with difficulty that I swallowed, and avoided gagging.

This first day he was going to impress on me what I was for. I was bent over a bar, my nose and tits chained to another bar only inches from the ground, my hands behind my back and held high in the air by the ropes from the ceiling, my leg as always wide apart, and fucked in the arse and pussy. I was taken up to his bed, where he lay and I squatted over him, using my hands to guide his cock into my cunt, then heaving up and down like a demented escalator, taking him deep inside me.

Then suddenly, I was taken downstairs, where I knelt in front of him as he sat in an armchair.

More things to remember. I was to cook him a meal at breakfast and at seven in the evening, which I was to serve.. I was forbidden to use a chair at any time, even when he was not at home. My place was kneeling. I would not eat off a plate, and I was shown my bowls. When cooking his meals I was to prepare something suitable to be eaten from the bowls. But I was not to eat unless he was watching. Many days he would be out until the evening. I was to spend the time making the house spotless, in particular scrubbing the stone kitchen floor, and polishing the wooden floors in the rest of the house. This was to be done in the morning and the afternoon. I would also go into the back garden, which was not overlooked, and spend at least two hours weeding. All this domesticity on top of violent sex was somewhat disconcerting.

I would sleep in a basket in the kitchen unless I was needed upstairs. I was not allowed in the toilet, a bucket was situated outside the back door. But I was allowed to shower, and should always be clean when he arrived home. When (not if, I noticed), he brought friends home, they should be given the same wholehearted service as he expected. Again he stressed that I was not allowed to speak to anyone, and should never answer the telephone. It would not be ringing for me.

I was laid across his lap, and he spanked me by hand. After the severe punishment earlier, there was something almost tender in that.

Then I was taken into the kitchen to prepare his meal. (Steak, vegetables, ice cream, and a bottle of wine he chose himself. I found a tin of meat chunks in gravy, which I heated and placed in my bowl. As, surprisingly, ha ha, I was not offered any wine, I put some water in the other bowl. After dinner, I sucked his cock until he came, and was then taken down to my basket in the kitchen.

I lay there assessing day one. The pain had been far worse than I had anticipated, and some of the contortions difficult, but if I was honest with myself, I had found the whole experience arousing. On balance, I had no regrets. Yet.

The following morning I made him a cooked breakfast, and put some cereal in a bowl for myself. It was a weekend, so after breakfast he amused himself all morning playing a game. The game was called ‘How many different uncomfortable ways can I tie up my slave’. After a couple of hours my arms were aching my legs were threatening to cramp up, and my breasts were sore.

I was tied standing up, lying down, kneeling, on my back, and face down.

It was soon apparent that his favourite was to tie my ankles to the overhead ropes and haul me into the air until my hands couldn’t reach the floor. There were two ropes, so my legs were pulled apart. Then my hands were fastened to my collar, then he would whip my cunt unmercifully, switching to caning my backside when that got boring. When I was the right height I could be fucked in the arse upside down. When he first put his cock to my rear I thought no way, but he managed to penetrate all the way. I was also made to demonstrate how I would scrub and polish the floor when he was out, to ensure I was doing it right. Doing it right entailed a great deal of elevation from my arse and pussy. He had some weights, about six to eight ounces, which is quite heavy, which he hooked on my cunt rings which stretched them painfully.

That evening he had friends round, which involved a meal for seven (salmon) which I served. Here were two couples and two other single males. I was totally ignored as I fussed around handing out the food, and serving some expensive white wine. How blasé can you be at having a naked waitress, I wondered.

Later I mused over the reasons for inviting friends round when you have a slave. The most obvious is to show off your power, and the obedience of your slave. Then there is providing your friends with unusual entertainment which you know to be to their liking. And finally, it gives you an opportunity to have your slave used in several different ways at once.

That was on the evidence of that first experience. I was tied and whipped by all of them, including the ladies, I had three cocks in me at once, mouth, cunt and arse, and I lay on my back lifting my legs in the air with my hands, unrestrained, and caned on my pussy, without making any attempt to protect myself.

One of the ladies, seeing me like that, expressed a wish to try it, so she lowered her panties, lifted her skirt, adopted a similar position to mine, and was caned twice before she thought it was not quite as much fun as I made it look.

“A cane in the hand is better than two on the bush” she remarked, which everyone thought terribly clever.

When they had gone, I went to my basket and slept. I awoke early and thought of what was happening. I realised that each experience would lead on to more extremes, here as in life. Everyone pushes the boundaries, whether it is driving fast, then faster, or extreme sports. And, importantly for me to remember, this applied to me as well as him. Whatever he did, I, like the slut I was becoming, wanted more.

I determined to give this arrangement my best shot, and enjoy the experience.

So, when he went out, with just a warning that ‘some people’ might pop in to see if I was behaving, I carried out my instructions to the letter. I never used a chair, or the toilet, I scrubbed the stone floor as if I was trying to wear it away, and I polished the wooden floors until they shone. And always with my arse up in the air. I knelt in the dirt in his back garden, in position, as it were, and weeded as much of his large kitchen garden as I was able. And as I had not been told to eat, I refrained from putting anything in my bowls.

One of the ladies from the previous evening came in while I was polishing, and I was made to put my tongue deep in her pussy and anus. Then I bent to receive six strokes of the cane.

Every so often his thoughtful friends would give him more pieces of equipment, such as a spanking bench, and an upright rack. Then one brought round a number of gags to supplement my ball gag. One had a huge dildo which was forced down my throat, one contraption pulled my mouth wide open, and another was a leather hood, fitted with ear plugs,  a dildo in my mouth, and just two holes by my nostrils to allow me to breathe. In that I was deaf, dumb and blind. I had, of course, seen pictures of similar devices on the web, and fantasised about wearing them. I had even tried opening my mouth as wide as I could to imagine how a spreader gag would feel. I pulled my jaws apart until they hurt, but I never achieved the width the real thing had me doing.

I think he was pleased with my compliance, although he never showed it. The sessions went on unrelenting, the whippings more severe, and my humiliation more extreme, particularly in front of his friends. At the suggestion of one of them, I became a human toilet, kneeling, drinking their piss while holding their cocks to ensure that it all went in my mouth. I became, with practise, quite adept at swallowing and controlling the flow. I also learned how to take four cocks. I would straddle one, and guide the cock into my cunt, then reach back to direct another into my arse, and lean forward to get two in my mouth, one from each side. I could never quite get those as deep as I wished, but I became adept at bringing all four to completion, and cleaning the cocks thoroughly.

The one piece of equipment I could never learn to love, if that is the right expression, was a large phallus, almost twice the thickest cock I ever took, which stood just over three feet high, with small platforms on either side. I mounted the platforms, I lowered myself onto the thing, and the platforms were removed, leaving me impaled. My wrists were attached to a rope above my head, and the only relief I could take was to pull upwards on the rope. With ankles held apart, it felt as if I was being torn in half.

One big change came after about four months. I was loaded into the boot of his car, and we drove for about two hours. When he opened the boot to let me out, with a lead on my collar, the first thing I noticed was that there were a lot of people around, none of whom were put out by this naked woman on a lead. We were in a large stable yard, and suddenly, round the corner came a woman harnessed like a horse, being led by a set of reins and taken into a barn. I had seen pony girl websites, and instantly realised what was in store for me. We walked into another barn, where there were three men standing waiting for me. I was bent forward, and one of them shoved a dildo in my arse, with long hair hanging down. I had a tail! Then I was shod with ankle boots, once they had ascertained my size. A bridle went on my head, which had blinkers preventing any sideways vision, and included a bit which was jammed in my mouth. Long reins were clipped to my breast rings, and I was led out, and down to a field. I saw a contraption like a roundabout, with four arms about twelve feet off the ground. Three girls were attached to the ends, with reins like mine from their breasts, and they were walking in circles. Soon there were four. The handlers had crops which they used on our rears, and we were told to pick our knees up to waist height. The other ponies were more experienced than I, and responded to the crops by increasing their speed from a walk to a trot. With three others turning the roundabout, I had no choice but to follow. Each of us received the same signals, and after an hour or so, I picked up the pattern, and walked or trotted to order. Then two rapid cuts with the crops, and they stopped, or rather we stopped. We were released, and I was led to a cart. Basically this consisted of a pair of wheels, joined by an axle. Above and across the axle was a seat, wide enough for two comfortably, or three squashed. There was a rail around the back and side forming a backrest. Two shafts led forwards from the seat, and another central one from the axle, linking with a large ring around it. My arms were laid along the shafts, from the elbow down, and strapped firmly. My hands were then place round a grip at the front. In order for passengers to get in it was necessary to kneel, so they could step over the shafts into the space between me and the seat. The cunning and unpleasant part was the third shaft, which led between my legs, and had a long dildo which penetrated me. A leather belt round my waist enabled a strap to pass beneath the shaft, and keep it in position. Finally reins led from my breast rings back to the driver, who was then able to move me in which ever direction he chose, at a speed regulated by the system of lashes I had just learned. Here I came about once a month, taking Him around for rides, sometimes alone, sometimes with other passengers. I could manage two without too much effort, but on the rare occasions I had three the strain was intense. There were so many other ponies there, most of whom were enthusiastic, and so many people, that this became a welcome diversion.

Less welcome was the final step in my degradation, which also occurred at the farm. At the end of one tiring day, when most of the ponies were leaving, I was released from my harness, and taken into a barn. On the first two instances, I was chained by my nose to a low bar, and my hands spread our along a rail. I was made to spread my legs and stick my rear up. Then a dog was led in, and I was penetrated by a huge cock, which seemed to swell up inside me. I was expected to show my usual enthusiasm. Later I was made to play a more active role, unrestrained, I was forced to take the dog in my mouth, until he was in an excited state, then use my hands to insert his cock. Then when he had come in my cunt, I took it in my mouth again and licked him clean. I am afraid I even found this arousing, as I demonstrated, to myself as much as anyone, how great was his power over me.

Of course, eventually, he told me my year was up. I was free to go, and he had arranged some sets of clothes for me. Then we spoke frankly about our year, and what it had meant to us both.

I really could not see myself without his control, and knew that nothing else was going to match the enormous buzz I got from complete obedience.

It was, I suppose, inevitable that we would decide to continue. Once again, I had things to deal with.

I invited Julia round, retrieved the letters, and tried to explain the situation. The only way was to tell her the whole story. She was incredulous, but fascinated. I wished to continue my power of attorney, and settle most of my investments via trust funds to the young relations for when they reached maturity. And sell the house, and contents. She suggested a colleague who specialised in trusts, and I met with him, set up the trust funds, switching the power of attorney to him. He would add the proceeds of the sale to the trusts. I told him that when I contacted him again, we would review the situation, and look at the performance of the investments. If I did not contact him, the trusts would mature on each child’s twentieth birthday. I lodged with friends, including Julia, and at the end of another month was ready to return.

A further month on and here I am in the dungeon, suspended by my wrists, ankles wide apart, linked at nose, breasts, cunt and ankles to Julia, while He practices his forehand and backhand caning techniques. An hour earlier she had stood at the door, removed her dress and sandals, placed them in the bin and followed Him in

And I am where I belong, his willing slave in love with her master.