Experimentation Volume 3

Happiness filled my life in a way it never had before. No one had ever thought to treat me the way Mistress did every day. I was her slave; she owned me, yet Mistress often brought me breakfast in bed! She continued with my reading lessons, and I continued with her sex lessons. It was probably a result of the circumstances, but for the first time in my life, I realized that I was falling in love. Love was something that I’d never known, and I didn’t really know how to respond to it. The strange thing was that the situation was mutual; Mistress began to fall for me, and she didn’t really know what to do about it either. Mistress began to give me an allowance, in the fashion parents did with their offspring. I got fifty dollars a week, in cash; fifty dollars that I could spend on little luxuries for myself.

When Mistress took me home, on the first day, she told me that there was one wardrobe in the bedroom that was out of bounds for me. I wondered what was in it; in fact I was desperately curious to find out its contents, but I left it alone. It was two months until Mistress gave me permission to open the wardrobe, and I was quite surprised to see the contents. They weren’t exactly things a young lady was expected to keep in her bedroom. That wardrobe contained almost two dozen swords from around the world. I was immediately fascinated with the collection, and asked Mistress to teach me all about swords, and the cultures that created them.

After almost four months of mutual sexual pleasure with Mistress’, it was my thirty-third birthday, and on the morning of that day, Mistress gave me the first birthday card I’d ever received. The wording from Mistress was, ‘For my Princess; my companion and my friend. All my love, Mistress.’ Inside the card was a smaller envelope with no markings. I opened the envelope to find hundred dollar bills; ten of them, and I found myself speechless. No one had ever given me a noticeable amount of money before, and told me I spend it on whatever I liked. My first thought was to save my present and hope that Mistress gave me many more such presents. That way, I was sure I would be able to buy my sister’s freedom. Perhaps I could even buy my own eventually. Of course, being a slave meant that I couldn’t have a bank account to save the money in, so I asked Mistress if she would open an account for me, so that I could save my money easily. Naturally, she agreed, and I got my savings account in Mistress’ name. Then, whatever out of my allowance I didn’t spend, I saved for the future.

My first problem, of course, was that I had to find my sister. I didn’t know where she was, so I was obviously going to have considerable work ahead of me. However, she was my sister, and I wanted to help her.

My first thought was to ask my parents if they knew where my sister was. If I was lucky, she would still be where they were, and hopefully would stay there until I could save up enough money and try to convince her owner to sell her to Mistress. Again, being a slave meant that I could not have property, but if I gave Mistress the money, she could buy my sister, and free her for me. I would pay every dollar of her asking price, and more, if Mistress would do what I wanted. I knew that my father was able to read and write, so I typed a letter on Mistress’ computer, bought a book of stamps the next time Mistress asked me to go shopping, and sent it to my father, along with a supply of envelopes, paper, stamps and pens; just hoping he’d get the package. My luck was in, and my father received it. He replied to me, in considerable surprise at my literacy, and gave me some bad news. My sister had been sold a couple of years earlier, but he could give me the address of her owner, and he confirmed that she also could read and write, so would be able to reply to any letters she received, if she received them.

When I got the reply from my father, Mistress handed me the envelope with a smile on her face. “Never had post before, Princess?” she asked. I almost took Mistress’ fingers off, when I snatched the envelope from her hand and ripped it open. It was a fabulous feeling, reading my first ever letter, although the feeling didn’t last when I read the news it contained. It was clear to Mistress that I was upset, so she put an arm around my waist, and kissed me. “Need a new letter pack then, Princess?” she asked.
“Yes Mistress; I just hope she’ll be able to answer,” I replied.

Mistress supplied me with my pack of stationary and stamps and I wrote to my sister. She was every bit as surprised as my father at my newfound ability to write. She was an administrator, which required her to be literate, and she asked me what I did for my owner. What did I tell her? I asked Mistress for her opinion and she said that I should describe myself as a ‘domestic.’ All of what I did for Mistress would be classified as ‘domestic’ work, in as much as it was done inside her apartment. As long as my sister remained in her position, she was safe, and I could be content with knowing that, until the time arrived that I could try to free her from her life of slavery.

She and I traded letters intensively for months, and I kept her well supplied with letter writing materials, at Mistress’ expense. In that time, Christmas came and went, and the contents of my savings account tripled to more than three thousand dollars, and my bra increased by one cup size. I took Mistress by surprise by giving her a Christmas present bought from my allowance. I told my sister the story of my first trip to the fetish store with Mistress, and included the story of our second visit.

That was every bit as entertaining as the first time, and I could even read the writing on the products. Mistress had decided that she required a larger dildo for me to make love to her with. I knew we were going shopping, the way we usually did, but she didn’t have to tell me where we were going. The spiked collar around Mistress’ neck indicated that we were going to the fetish shop, and that I was again going to have to pretend to be Mistress’ owner.

As instructed by Mistress, I clipped on her leash just after we got out of the car, and I led her by it into the store. The response was much as predicted. “Hey, look who’s come back. It’s the lucky bitch with the fantastic bit of pussy! Are your tits bigger than the last time you were here?”
“Yes, I’ve been under the knife.”
“Thought so. You broke the little bit of pussy in properly, after you took her home, last time?”
“Given the price I paid for her, you’re damn straight I did! She’s a wonderful fuck, with such a lovely tight pussy. There are times I wonder how it might feel to be a man, and whenever I’d got my double-ended rubber prick buried clit-deep in her pussy, I do think like that. What would it feel like to be able to spunk in her cunt daily, I wonder? With tits like those to squeeze, I fuck her several times a day when I have the energy!” I had to laugh dirtily, like a letch, as I spoke; it was expected of me.
You gonna tell me what you paid for her, yet?”
“Due to favourable circumstances, I got her for the bargain price of thirty five grand!” I replied; even managing to sound as if I was gloating over my purchase. I suppose that if I had been in that position, I may well have gloated over what I’d gotten, at the price I supposedly got it for.
“Thirty five? Lucky cow! How did you achieve that feat?” I could sense the jealousy in her voice, and I was sure I could see it all over her face.
I pulled Mistress closer to me, and put my arms around her waist. “She’d been bought as a gift to her previous owner’s son, but for reasons unknown, he was still unable to get his prick solid enough to stick it in her. She was kept intact until he was going to be capable of fucking his present; he never got the chance. Financial trouble hit the family, and they needed money, fast. Coincidentally, I happened to hear about their troubles, and remembered the girl they’d bought for their son for when he overcame his limp prick problem, and made an offer for her. They needed a quick sale, and thirty five thousand in cash, was sufficient incentive for me to take ownership. I realize how lucky I was to get her so cheap, and I intend to take maximum advantage of that as often as I can.”
“I’d ask if you were willing to sell her to me, but in your place, I wouldn’t let that go any time soon either.”
“Not a chance, and you know it!”
“I can dream, can’t I?” She produced a business card, which she handed me, “In case you change your mind, or, however unlikely it is, eventually get bored with Miss. Tits, there. I’ll pay top dollar for her in either of those situations.”

I took the card, but I knew it wasn’t relevant; after all, I couldn’t sell what I didn’t own. Even if did own Mistress, I could never have sold her to the sort of pervert that room was full of; they wouldn’t have treated her the way I would have, and the way I already did. She treated me better than most, if not all, of the women in that room would have treated her. Some men didn’t treat their wives as well as Mistress treated her obedient, horny, blonde sex slave.

(For example, there was the time I’d come down with food poisoning. At the time, we didn’t know the cause of the condition, but I was ill; very much so. Mistress summoned a doctor to attend to me, and with the experiences I’d had, that was something I had not been expecting. No other owner had summoned a doctor for me, or for any other slave I’d ever known, yet Mistress didn’t bat an eyelid at the expense of the doctor, or the hospital visit she recommended. Mistress took me to A & E, and paid my bills. She even got all combative with the doctors who didn’t originally want to treat me because I had no medical history. It was beautifully done, and in a way I wouldn’t have dreamt of. Mistress told them that they had a responsibility to treat any sick person with the money to pay, and seeing as Mistress could pay for my treatment, they were obliged to treat me. She also threatened to sue the asses off them all if I didn’t survive the treatment. I was an expensive piece of property and she wanted me back in first class condition, ‘or fucking else!’ Mistress also commented that at home, she never restrained me, and if I complained about being chained up, or otherwise mistreated, there’d be absolute bloody hell to pay! She left me in hospital for three days, visiting twice a day on each of them, with flowers, chocolates and kisses. The bill for my treatment was half as much as my purchase price, yet Mistress paid it without hesitation because I was worth it!