I never saw myself as a slave. Since I heard this term for the first time up until now.
Somehow it always had a bad sound. It was nothing I could identify with.
The men looking for slaves were looking for a girl to order around. Someone who has no self-respect, no confidence. They wanted someone with no opinion of their own. No own will.
And the slave I’ve talked to at some point were just like that.
By now I have met other Masters and slaves and have seen that it doesn’t have to be like that. Yet, I still could never see myself as a slave.
I am submissive. Sometimes a little one. But never a slave.
When the Gentleman told me that he wants to own me, I was ok with that. I actually liked the idea. In my head also a submissive can be owned.
Every now and then he would say the word slave. It bothered me a bit. But I thought that it’s just a word.
And then the other day he called me “my slave”.
What happened to me? Instead of reacting the way I usually react and back off or distance myself, I smiled.
I wasn’t bothered at all.
Maybe it’s the combination of both words. Pointing out that I’m not just a slave, but his slave. Maybe the idea of being a slave to him is what is different from everyone before.
In any case, I like it and I am looking forward to being his slave.