I’ve become a slave to my dominant couple. My take on the difference between a sub and a slave is that a sub has the ability to top from the bottom where a slave does not and should never be given the chance to.
I have done some quite disgusting and degrading things whilst in service, some things that, given the choice, I would have opted out of, but being a slave I’ve always done exactly as I’m told.
The cynic may say if that is the difference, then the slave could ultimately be killed or at the very least seriously injured. My reply to that is that in a relationship with a Master, or Mistress, or in my case both, it’s all about trust. Trust in Your Superiors and they put their trust in you.
Typically I get a phone call to report to them and recently I was ordered around to their house to help tidy the garden up. Master wore a full length rubber raincoat, souwester and rubber wellingtons and looked so utterly superior and superb.
I was given a yellow pvc raincoat, which I later learned was an old one of their daughters and matching wellingtons, and worked for three hours whilst Master supervised.
After we had finished, I had to clean Master’s rubber garments, as well as the pvc raincoat and wellies that I wore. Cleaning their outdoor rubber clothing is quite an event in itself as they insist that I do it in a certain way, starting by licking the sweat out of the rubber souwester Master wears.
"Its the taste of a real man," he insists. “I also have to lick the sweat from the armpits of his rubber mackintosh before it and the sou’wester are polished a put away.
His rubber Hunters have to be licked spotlessly clean, but I am allowed a toothbrush and some water to help loosen the dirt first. But if he finds fault then I’m caned by him or Mistress...…
Mistress likes to force my face into the Hunter that isn’t up to standard and apologise to it as I’m being punished.
After cleaning the kit this time, I escaped a beating, but then had to write a note to their daughter thanking her for the use of her raincoat. Then we had lunch.
When lunch was finished and I’d cleared away the dirty crockery, Master told me that there was a little cleaning to be done and, being as I was pressed for time there was no need to change into my maid’s uniform. I breathed a sigh of relief. No punishment then.
But Mistress obviously saw the relief on my face. “But you will strip naked boi. Master went to the coat rack and unhitched a black oilskin cape. “Put this on boi.”
The cape was heavy, with that high gloss pvc that feels sticky to touch because it’s so shiny.
I did my chores as Master and Mistress sat in armchairs, casually watching me work. I stood in front of them when I’d done.
“Have you finished?” Master asked.
Mistress got up and walked over to the window. She ran her fingers along the pelmet, turned slowly with the two fingers outheld for Master to see.
“Oh dear boy. A slack effort in the garden followed by a slack effort in the house.”
He got out of his chair and walked over to the tall cupboard. I knew what was kept in there. He pulled out a long whippy, crook-handled cane and a rubber slipper. He handed the slipper to Mistress.
“Over the table boi,” she ordered. I felt her lift the skirt of the cape and then came the onslaught of stinging whacks on my bare bottom. I’ve no idea how many she gave me, 20, 30 maybe, but they were hard.
Then I heard her says, “your turn darling,” and a split second later I yelped as the cane landed just on the top of my bare thighs. The cane strokes fell, hard and fast and I could feel tears being squeezed out of my eyes and down my cheeks.”
Master was out of puff by the time he’d finished.
“You are dismissed boi,” he said between deep breathes. “Back tomorrow at eight.”
One day I had to serve Master and Mistress wearing an old yellow, pvc oilskin cycle cape. Underneath, I was naked! The cape had no slits for the arms. When I carried the tea tray into the room it meant I revealed my genitals. Mistress went mad, “you filthy pervert, flashing you cock at me. I’ll cane you for that.”
I was given task after task to do that meant bending down, picking things off the table, carrying them across the room. Each time, Master or Mistress would complain at seeing my ‘filthy cock.’ When they’d had their fun, I was caned for my crimes.
Another time I was summonsed to the house and was surprised to discover another slave already there.
I hadn't a clue who the new boi was – except that his name was Sam and he was just 22. To be perfectly honest thought he was a girl at first, looking very cute in a maids uniform, make up and a wig.
I’d been spending my time at the house decorating their bedroom, so I think he was brought in to cover my maid duties. Initially, I had to do the decorating naked but Mistress took pity on me when it got really cold and gave me an old yellow trawlerman’s oilskin cagoule to wear. It absolutely stunk of old sweat and diesel - and was so heavy and cumbersome to wear that it made decorating even more awkward.
Master said I would be punished for being so slow. Sam was also due punishment. So I watched him go first, spreading himself across the dining room table with his bare bottom showing.
Mistress really laid him to him with the cane. I’d never watched someone else get a thrashing before. The poor boy wasn’t used to the treatment and yelled out with each cut. I watched his pert little alabaster cheeks get covered with angry tramlines and his orbs glow and angry red all over with the beating.
When Mistress finished, Master told me to step forward and kiss his bottom better….. The heat was immense as I ran my lips over his still trembling cheeks. Then I had to rub some salve into them.
But the time I’d finished I was rock hard but my excitement so faded as I watched Master unhook the thick rubber belt from his mackintosh and tell me to lay over the table.
I got a really hard dozen, stinging whacks. And then another 12 with the cane. Sam had to give my bottom the same delicious tender treatment I’d given him.
When I got up we both faced our superiors. Sam was given an old cagoule like mine and once he’d got it on, Mistress stepped forward to tie our hoods tight. Then we were strapped together, our faces touching – and told to snog.
Master and Mistress shouted: “Harder.” Stick your tongue down his throat.” Kiss like you mean it.” Harder boi. Or do you want to be caned again.” And the harder we went at it, the more abuse we got, “You raging fucking poofs,” Master shouted. “Look at the pair of you, you queers,” said Mistress.