July/August 2001
A New Country... A New Life
by Colleen

I am writing this as I fly to live in a new country and start a new life. But it had all started so long ago with a going to sleep dream process. In order to get myself to sleep, since I was very small, I always went through the same routine, a “sleeping dream”. I would lay on my back, finger myself and imagine something. In the early days I would pull the bedclothes over my head and imagine I was an engine driver or a space pilot, but in later years it was always sexually driven and always include fingering my nipples and ended up imaging having my ears pierced.

My “sleeping dream” always involved me being under the control of someone, always a woman, who forced me to undergo humiliating and degrading procedures. For years it involved being forced to become a Transsexual at a remote location, typically a Chateau in the South of France. The most exciting part was always being forced to dress up, being made up to be a woman (Miss High Heels by Anonymous was my role model) and being forced to take the necessary drugs to alter my appearance, then finally having my ears pierced.

However after putting some of this into practice, such as joining the Beaumont Society and going to meetings etc, I suddenly got involved in a relationship. I was living in England at this time, and it was with a woman who was controlling but prim and proper with it. For three years I lived with a woman who controlled me mentally, but only wanted things done correctly and I sublimated my growing desire for further more bizarre outward manifestations into building a model railway and my “sleeping dreams”. It is amazing but over the years I have always been able to get to sleep within minutes providing I had my “sleeping dream”.

Suddenly one day, exactly three years after we came together, she ended it, because apparently, over the past three months, there were two occasions when my behavior had not been up to her standard (I had too much to drink and told a so called dirty joke). All at once my old passions came flooding back and I quickly found an organization in a trade paper, called The Golden Wheel, which offered contacts with people into the Occult and ‘Other’ paths. I was upset at first by the suddenness of the ending of our relationship, but she was even more upset that I openly started looking for something new and different in my life, even before I had moved out (it took some weeks to dismantle the model railway). But being released again into the possibilities of a new life style I quickly forgot my hurt. 

Now one of the images that I had kept very clearly in my mind was a Channel 4 TV (UK) theme evening where all the programs had a common theme. I forget now the exact theme, but the last program involved among others, the appearance of “Miss Whiplash” and her slave. She was also accompanied by her normal looking husband, but she was dressed in an outlandish outfit of leather, fishnet stockings, spiked hair, exaggerated make up etc. and controlled her slave with a gag, blindfold, lead and collar, handcuffs etc., in what she made out to be 24x7 arrangement. Seeing that slave just turned me on.

One of the more promising adverts I found in the Golden Wheel was from a couple looking for a slave, possibly to live in. At that point in time they seemed too good to be true, as did most of the ads, especially as the ratio of male seekers to female providers appeared to be about 100 to 1. But I paid my money and wrote off to the most promising 20 as the blurb said every one was guaranteed to reply, whatever their response. Well two women responded offering to sell me their used knickers for 10 pounds a time and one couple wrote back to say that they didn’t subscribe to Golden Wheel requirements, what they actually wanted was someone to screw the wife in front of the husband. Another woman phoned me up and asked me whether I would allow her to dominate me and her husband together and talked through the process in detail, but admitted she had never done anything like it before and failed to call back as arranged the next day, so I presume she restricted herself to phone thrills.

But then there was Jenny and Mike. Jenny not only wrote to me giving me her telephone number, but her address as well, something very unusual. She had liked my letter and requested that I came for an interview. We arranged to meet at 4pm on a subsequent Saturday at her house, but I had to phone her regularly until then. This I did, but a couple of days before she changed the time to 1pm. I had made arrangements to call on someone else on the way and I almost said no, but something stopped me, and as I discovered later, this was a test, which I would have failed if I had said no.

Well the big day for my interview approached and I was unsure what might befall and had no one to whom I could confide. The trip involved driving about 70 miles and then crossing the river by ferry. I decided that perhaps I should park my car a little way away just in case things got out of hand. I had arrived early and went into a local pub to calm my nerves. I was dressed in a T-shirt, shorts and sandals, as it was a hot day, a very good choice as it later transpired. At 12:45 as arranged I presented myself at the house to be greeted by Mike, who I found out later was then Jenny’s Fiancé. The house was in a total state, as they were completely redecorating the living room, dining room and hall, stripping them down to the Victorian ceiling decorations and opening the two main rooms into one, as is the norm in England. I was told there was another slave also on test and that he had gone out shopping with Mistress. This was the only way they used to get money, I was never asked for money but was expected to bring presents and pay bills when out shopping with Mistress. This I normally did until one day Mistress spent $400 on wallpaper, but more on this later.

Very soon the big moment came, in marched Mistress with the ‘slave’ in tow. She was stunning, petite, in her late forties, beautiful long curly red hair framed her face, she had a fantastic figure, and her face was beautifully smooth and freckled. Only her mouth gave her away, very thin, almost no lips showing. She could in fact look fabulous in make up, but because as I learned later, Mike didn’t like it, she didn’t usually wear makeup or perfume.

At once we (the trial slaves) were told to strip naked, except for shoes, which were necessary due to the redecorating. From that moment onwards I always had to be completely naked from the moment I entered the house, including the garden, except if we went out shopping. The other slave (John) was a complete nut case. He was in his mid thirties, fat, a traveling salesman, who claimed that he had never been with a woman, drank 10 pints of beer every night, and had to leave at 4 o’clock to go to a friend’s wedding, although the story was never consistently the same from one telling to the next. He was clumsy, completely unable to carry out even the simplest task and reveled in being humiliated, but as a failure not as a slave.

First we were set to clean up some of the mess in the living and dining rooms where the ceiling frescos were being stripped of accumulated paint and laying down fresh newspaper. Then we were asked to help prepare a meal and John managed to get told off every 30 seconds. I had no idea what was expected of me but somehow just fell straight in to what was expected. On this occasion we all sat down to lunch together and it immediately became clear that our hosts were into drinking cold dry white wine. Over lunch we were asked what we wanted out of them and we both told our stories to date.

John really wanted to have a relationship with a woman, which he claimed he had never had, and this was his only way of contacting women, with the result that he suffered continuing humiliation at his inability to carry out even the simplest of tasks. Mine was to put my “sleeping dream” into real time and go all the way. To this end I started without any prompting to direct all my attention to Jenny, who responded well to my focus. I wiped her mat when her glass got stuck to it and served her food as she requested.

After lunch John was delegated to wash up, which took something like ¾ hour for just a few plates, dishes and cutlery and ended with him putting so much washing up liquid in the sink that there were bubbles overflowing onto the floor and out the open window. I had talked myself into massaging Mistresses feet, as she lay naked in the sunshine in the garden, in full view of the neighbors. She became quite encouraging to me, telling me how much she liked me etc. John departed for his “wedding” and I was asked to stay on for the night. Mike warned me I might have to put Mistress to bed if she drank much more, but in the event we all went to bed early after I had been given a tour of “The Cellar”.

Now the cellar wasn’t in its best shape because it was directly under the living room and hall and was covered in newspaper and the dust from the rooms above whish were floored with ordinary rather than tongue and groove boards so that there were cracks between each board and with no separate ceiling to the cellar you could see the rooms above from below. The cellar was approached by a narrow flight of stairs from the dining area off the kitchen and its original use was as a coal cellar. Coal was delivered through a small manhole in the pavement (side walk) in front of the house and it originally had no fixed floor just earth. Mike had excavated another 3 or 4’ and put down a concrete floor, so it was now a nice sized room about 20’ square by 8’ high, painted all in black with a dark carpet. There was no electricity in the main area, just black candleholders and candlesticks. Two walls had rows of hooks on which all Mistresses tools of the trade were on display, chains, cuffs, clips, whips, paddles and a policeman’s helmet! There was the remains of an old brick fireplace which had a door made of metal bars about 3” apart measuring 3’ x 3’ closing off the same sized space about 2’6” off the ground and only 18” deep. The door was hinged at the top and was closed by two large padlocks at the bottom. There were also plenty of hooks screwed into the ceiling beams. Of course much to my disappointment I was only given a view and a short “discussion”, whilst kneeling in front of Mistress, who sat against one of the walls covered with tools, on a large black “throne” and told me some of the rules:

I mustn’t be higher than Mistress

I must await her commands, otherwise to not do anything

I must anticipate her needs wherever possible

There would be no sexual contact with her

I must not look her in the eye

When I have finished a task I must return to her, kneel and state the task is complete

I must be naked at all times, except when outside the house area

When out with Mistress I must walk a pace behind her

At night I would be chained to the foot of Mistresses bed

I was to serve her tea exactly as she specified as soon as I was released in the morning.

Mistress carried a short riding crop at all times, which she used to make points, but she wielded it only fairly mildly.

As it was my first night I was actually allowed to share their bed, sleeping naked, but not too close to Mistress, with Mike on her other side. I survived the night, luckily, because my snoring was drowned out by Mike’s and at 6 o’clock I was dispatched to prepare the morning tea and bring it to Mistress in bed. With a bit of luck I managed to present it exactly to Mistresses specification, but my later test were not so successful. We had an early breakfast and then I was allowed to help Mistress with her shower. This involved getting into the shower with her and soaping and spraying her, then drying her, which for someone in such a state of shock was not too successful, but I got better as the nervousness reduced on later occasions. I was also required to wipe Mistress every time she went to the toilet.

Mistress then said I was to take her shopping, so I needed to get my car to the door. As I had left the car a good ½ mile away this posed a little problem, but somehow I managed to retrieve it and pick up Mistress without the fact being noticed, but I ran fast. The trip went OK but there were slip-ups, which I was warned, would involve dire consequences if I failed again. I had to depart fairly soon after we returned, so I took my leave and agreed to come back the next Friday night.

After I left I was at first in total shock; that I had gone so far in just 24 hours with a complete stranger; that I had willingly put so much effort into making it successful; that I had known instinctively how to behave; that I easily submitted to everything I was asked. Yet driving back into my previous world, it almost felt that it hadn’t happened at all, it had just been a dream and I didn’t phone Mistress as arranged when I got home. The next night Mistress was “unavailable” and I was instructed to phone back the next night. Suddenly I was totally hooked, Friday couldn’t come fast enough, I wanted to get back into Mistresses world, I felt like a teenager going on a second date.

Well I was there on the dot with my presents, flowers and wine. They had both just got back from work, but they were ready for me. Mistress met me at the door with a collar and leather leash, which I was required to put on as soon as I had stripped naked. Mistress then put me to work getting supper ready, whilst Mike worked on the decorating. I tried hard to do everything right, but some things were not to her liking and she threatened me with “the cellar”. My adrenaline rushed, I almost found myself doing things wrong to gain the punishment and hasten my trip to “the cellar”. Anyway first we had supper and Mistress was interested in the letter I had been required to send her in the week, as my impatience for Friday boiled up. In it I had been required to spell out all my outrageous fantasies as to how the relationship should be between us, starting with Miss Whiplash. The basis she wished to work on was that she wanted a personal slave to look after her every wish and to assist her with her other ‘clients’, who came from time to time for their specialty paid sessions in the cellar, and at parties and other gatherings where I would be her “piece de resistance” to make all the others jealous. She felt that I should be able to serve her every move, know what clothes she wanted and if required dressing up to her whim. About the only difficulty I had in comparison to my fantasy was the apparent large element of housekeeping and the reduced personal ownership. My deafness was however a definite stumbling block in my ability to react instantly to Mistresses every command.

At supper she did implement one of my fantasies, I was made to kneel beside Mistresses chair and she fed me as and when she felt like it, but I also still had to ensure that her plate and glass were never empty and for someone with such a trim figure she sure needed a lot of refilling. After supper I was detailed to light the candles in the cellar and await my fate, whilst Mistress disappeared upstairs. As I knelt at the foot of her chair in the flickering light, Mistress reappeared in high heels, leather skirt, leather buckled top, fishnet stockings and red lipstick with her riding crop in her hand and her long red hair unpinned and flowing freely down to her waist. I was lectured on my errors and then instructed to put on leather wrist cuffs. Mistress then secured the cuffs to a chain running between two hooks in the ceiling beams; about 5’ apart with me on tip toes. Mistress then forced my feet apart so that I was hanging by my cuffs and started lashing me with the crop, but not very hard. As she did it she told me that she didn’t want to have to do this to me, it was degrading and unnecessary, what she wanted was to make me totally addicted to her by ‘molding’ me with a diet of intimacy and control, that I would do her every wish without question or mistake, making this type of session unnecessary as she only did it for ‘clients’. This of course was exactly what I had always wanted, to be molded to my Mistresses desire, and I was in heaven.

Mistress then told me the plans for the night. I was to add ankle cuffs and then have all four cuffs linked by a heavy chain, which would be looped round the leg of her bed and padlocked. I would sleep on the carpet, naked, with hands and ankles almost touching. This was fantastic progress and I was hooked totally.

On a subsequent occasion I was put in the “cage” in the cellar for another mistake, whilst Mistress and Mike went out for the newspaper I had forgotten. Not only was I enclosed in the cage, which at 18” wide forced you to twist your shoulders, as you couldn’t sit square, but also I was shackled to the bars so you were forced to half squat with your shoulders twisted. I was now visiting Mistress regularly and phoning her every day, but things were coming to a head. First was the wallpaper incident. I was already considering their offer of a permanent live in position and this was particularly relevant as I had to shortly move out of my rented flat, which was over my office, as it was being refurbished. The drawbacks were that I could think of no story which would satisfy my family as to why I would move to a flat 70 miles from my office, plus a ferry crossing, when I currently lived on site. Secondly I had some time before obtained a Green Card to enable me to live in America, but had then got a contract in England, which was nearly complete, and I had to make the move very soon or the card would be cancelled.

So with these things on my mind, when Mistress expected me to pay 273 pounds ($415) for her new wallpaper I didn’t, as I usually did, offer to pay. Mistress hardly spoke to me in the car on the way back and when we got in she erupted. I was told to go and prepare the cellar, but instead of Mistress appearing, Mike came down with instructions to shackle me with wrist and ankle cuffs and to secure my hands to my ankles behind my back and to crouch/kneel in front of Mistresses chair. Nothing happened for perhaps half an hour. Then Mistress appeared she looked more beautiful than I had ever seen her. She had made her face up and piled her hair up and looked every inch the Mistress you would die for. Without a word she blindfolded me, stuffed a ball gag in my mouth, tightened the chains so I was bent in half and left me, forbidding me to move an inch, blowing out all the candles as she left, leaving me in complete darkness. It later turned out that she and Mike went upstairs to make love, having me in chains very much turning them on. When I was released some hour later, I was mocked with having missed seeing them make love in front of me, something that due to subsequent events I never got to do.

When I was eventually released, it was only to attach a slightly longer chain between my hands and ankles, just enough so that I could stand on a ladder and work on scraping the ceiling. I still have marks those cuffs made on my wrist today. This was pretty difficult and strenuous with three chains to control, and from then on this was what I wore at all times when I was working, making meals, cleaning, vacuuming, anything except going outside in the garden.

One thing I haven’t yet mentioned and something, which had a very molding effect, was Mistresses use of nipple clamps. I had originally happened to notice these nipple clamps in the cellar, as they were home made from a pair of sprung electrical clamps joined together by a piece of string about 4” long. Luckily they were the smooth tongue type not the serrated ones. The moment I mentioned them it stirred a reaction, because on my first visit Mistress had touched my nipples and found that when I was excited they were extremely sensitive, especially if it was she who touched them. She suggested she should try them on me and of course I said yes. There is nothing I find more addictive than nipple clamping. There is of course the initial pain, but the real pain is when they are taken off, especially if you rub them, because you can do to stop the pain as they are released. It used to take me from Monday to Friday to recover from two days of irregular clamping; goodness knows what continuous clamping would do. Mistress would carry the clamps with her at all times, but would put them on and take them off totally at random, but usually for 15-30mins at a time and you never knew when they were going to be applied. She would also tug on the string from time to time and when she took them of she would always rub my nipples vigorously to increase the blood flow, and the pain. Not once did I ever say no or try to stop her putting them on, not once did I not want her to do it. She was really “molding” me well.

After about three months with Mistress it came to the point where I had to make a decision and I was sorely pushed. Every cell of my body said that this was what I wanted more than anything I had ever wanted before, but my mind and my so rational thoughts said otherwise. To make things really complicated, I had had for some time a platonic girl friend who had been a Cabinet Minister in an African nation (Francesca) and she wanted me to go to Ghana with her, and I had just been over to Phoenix, where my children had begged me to come over and stay, and I had then started a relationship with a woman in Scottsdale (also Jenny) who was in the cult that had originally brought us to Scottsdale in the first place, which was all pulling me in all the other direction but the one I wanted, with the one plus that it was just marginally easier to tell my family than about Mistress.

Well Mistress and Mike gave me an ultimatum, commit to them and move in or finish the weekly visits. I knew they really wanted me because Mistress, in a most uncharacteristic moment, actually told me she was dying to have me make love to her, which was a big shock in itself, and on the telephone she didn’t ring off after two minutes, as was her custom. But I finally decided that however much I wanted what they offered, I couldn’t operate in a vacuum and there was no way I could hide what was happening from my family and there was no way that they could have understood why I was doing it.

I so wish there was some way I could have achieved my life long dream, but this was how things stood. I was contemplating giving up a well-paid job, which had taken me 9 months to land, and deciding between:

-    Becoming a full time slave in London

-    Going to Ghana with a black woman

-    Going to Scottsdale and joining a cult.

As you might gather I decided on the latter and my “sleeping dream” is still just that, leaving me with my nipples and my pierced ears for comfort. Farewell England, farewell family, farewell job, farewell Mistress…….