I was sitting in my living room with four of my closest lady friends. All five of us were wearing elegant dresses and jewelry, as per my request. I was wearing a red silk dress with golden armslets and big, round earnings. All of us could see that I was, by far, the most gorgeous; and I knew this was not because of natural beauty, but thanks to the energy and power that flowed within my soul.
All four of They were shocked, whispering, staring, jaw-dropped, as they sipped through the drinks that my slave had brought us; because there among us, kneeing at attention, eyes down in surrender and submission, was my husband, naked, in chatity, wearing but a collar and a leash. They had known this man for years; we met them before many times, as boyfriend and girlfriend first, husband and wife later. And now this Very same man was there, before their eyes, as my property, my possession. And that was the very purpose of this get-together: making our new marital status known and livedin all social situations. No more duality.
I had explained to them through dinner that I now owned my husband, dinner which had been cooked by my slave, who was then playing the butler, standing at attention. Now, after eating, I had him naked, collared and exposed. They saw me ordering him around. They saw him calling me Mistress, Goddess, Owner. They didn’t know what to make of it, they couldn’t quite process it. Then, suddenly, I started talking about the Goddess. I hadn’t planned on it, but the urge came over me, and I discovered that I had been craving to share it with someone from outside. I told them of the otherworldly power I felt, how it had given me so many graces and gifts in life, how my life no longer felt mine to control. I was living the life of the Goddess. I first feared that they would think I had gone mad, but they didn’t. In fact, they were curious, and asked me many questions. They had seen the results this past three years. They didn’t know the cause, but all of them had noticed that I had become, by far, the happiest, most beautiful, most independent, free and powerful woman they knew. If this was the secret, they weren’t going to judge it, but rather learn from it.
I tried to answer their questions, but couldn’t. It turns out that such experiences are difficult to understand for those who do not live them. Therefore, I choose to show them, not tell.
“Slave,” I ordered, “go kiss Sarah’s feet. Worship her as if she was me”.
“Yes, my Goddess” He answered back, and started kissing her shoes. He then removed them, and started kissing and massaging her feet. Sarah could not believe it. This was the same man with whom she had shared friendly conversations so many times. Yet there he was now, worshiping her feet. I motioned for him to do the same to all four of them. They all became enrolled with the situation. Then, I pulled my slave’s lean to make him come to me.
“This lady’s night will end the way all my nights end.Slave! Go make preparations. You’re going to give all five of us the routine. I want them to feel the presence of the Goddess in their soul”.
And so, he did. After we were done eating, he led us to my bedroom, undressed all five of us with great care, and began giving us a full-body massage with oils until we were fully relaxed. Then, he put on his fake cock and started fucking all of us, one at a time, Sometimes to full orgasm, sometimes leaving one of us strategically wanting, so that the end would be even better. I could hear Sarah moan in satisfaction. I made sure that all of them had at least one orgasm, and then I took my slave’s lean, pushed him down on the bed, and started riding him from the top. I could feel the onlooking eyes of my four friends, relaxed, happy, satisfied, astonished, as they saw me ride my service to multiorgasmic ecstasy. “Dress us back and go do the dishes” I ordered once I felt satisfied.
After my slave had gone away from the bedroom (all four of my friends were now fully dressed, while I was on my pajamas, ready to sleep) I let my friends speak. They were enthusiastic. “This was better than going to a spa; and much, much cheaper!” said one.
“And this isn’t even the full thing,” I said, smiling, “please mind that we had to share, and this is just a final kick to help get good sleep. Every morning, he makes me breakfast, bathes me, massages me, make my hair; and if I feel like it, I fuck him too. For as long as I desire.”
They looked at each other. I could see that they had felt the potential. “You know what?” laughed Sarah, “next time I fancy a man, I’m going to try and put his dick in a cage, too. This was amazing.”
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Through the following weeks, all our family, friends and acquaintances had learned about the current nature of our relationship. There were all kind of reactions: some enthusiastic, some curious, some politely distant, some horrified.We grew closer to some people, more distant to others. But what amazing me through the whole process was this: every time I explained myself, it sounded more like a religious conversion than a sexual adventure. The whole argument was always thus: that it was not about pleasure or self-interest, but about something that had overcome us, which we had to follow.
From then on, a new situation started showing its face, a situation that left me conflicted; a situation that was sort of written on the wall, something that could be seen on the horizon, but that I will choose to look away from.
After word went around, I started getting flooded with proposals (both online and from real people that I knew), from both submissives and “bulls”, that is, men who wanted to “become part of my stable” and men who wanted to give me “the Feeling of a real man”. Most of them were ridiculous, of course; but there were a few serious cases that forced me to face the situation.
Shall I acquire more slaves? Shall I get me a free man to replace my slave as my lover? My first thought was: of course not. Below the slave, lies the man I once loved. I don’t want to do that to him.
Then I thought: but isn’t that the natural course of things? If my husband has become my property, if he truly is my slave- why should he oppose this? The idea of a slave objecting to his Owner expanding the number of her servants is ridiculous. If I wish for more slaves to serve me more and better, then so be it. Furthermore: it seems natural that a Queen who rules should look for a King to be by her side. It’s lonely at the top. A chattel is not good company. There’s no denying that I once loved my husband- but how can one love someone who has lost his personhood? Surely, you can love him as a chefd possession, the way you love your house, your car or some family religious. You can even love him the way you love a pet. But you cannot love as a man someone whose penis is non-existent to all practive effects. You cannot love as a friend someone you have to systematically be cruel to in order to keep him in line with your rule.
But then again: what about the eternal promise? The feeling of serving the Goddess together, and maybe reuniting after death? Was that mere fantasy-driven poetic madness? Was there some truth to that feeling? Why am I doing this? There’s no question that it would certainly be more pleasant to have more slaves. It also certainly goes with the natural way of things that I should not be loyal to a slave, and find me a man of equal standing. But was this situation about my own self-interest, or the reality of the Goddess in my soul? Am I simply taking advantage of someone else’s sexual desires to my own advantage? Am I simply abusing this man for financial and lifestyle gain, and nothing more?
No: I went full in with this because I felt a deep purpose in making the power in me come to Earth. Material advantage was just a side-effect, the gifts and graces of the Goddess. And his slavery, is it just the pathetic cravings of a half-man, a man I can disregard and humiliate, a man I can replace with someone else while still taking advantage of him? No: this was a noble, brave man, I know. His slavery was not out of a pathetic lack of masculinity, but out of a geneine adoration of the Goddess he felt present in my soul, and he worked to pull Her out in the open. This was always about the Goddess. I shall not take decisions based on some temporal horniness, material advantage or my superficial desires as a woman, but only on what will make the divine energy in me come to light.
But then again: who is to say these things are not according to the Goddess’ will? Cannot an increase in poverty made her presence more powerful? Do the Gods not marry and make love, does the Goddess not desire a God to share Her divine essence with?
What is the right way? I was conflicted and didn’t know what to do. My husband had becomemy slave and there was no turning back. What now, what now?
Then, one night, at the peak of my disorientation, I had a powerful dream.
I was alone in a garden, dressed in fine silk, eating from a banquet. Then, suddenly, the Earth Shook, and stairs came down from the heavens. Two women, one like an angel and one like a demon, came down, grabbed me by the arms, and led me to the top. There was a temple there. Then, from below, a gigantic figure emerged, whose feet stood on earth and whose head rose above the temple, looking directly at me. It was the Goddess. She was the most beautiful, peaceful sight I had ever seen; it was as if the whole meaning of life was manifesting.
Then, suddenly, her beautiful hair turned into black snakes, her teeth became those of a beast and her eyes turned red. Six arms came out of her body, swords and axes on each hand. I was terrified. My “wrath” that I’ve spoken so often about was but a laughable cute little thing compared to what I wasseeing. I fell on my knees instinctively. My clothes disappeared and I was left naked, head bowed down, shaking. The Goddess took me into the palm of her hand, and I let out a scream. Then, shades and chains appeared all over my body, restraining me. The angel and the demon flew to me. The angel grabbed my head and started kissing me. The demon grabbed my tits and started playing with them. I felt used and powerless. Then, a green ethereal substance came out of my body, and flew right into the Goddess’ mouth, who swallowed it all. It was Her essence: my feelings of these past few years suddenly evaporated, and I was left feeling again like the regular girl I used to be; and now I was in a prediction, bound in chains, about to be abused by supernatural forces.
Then trumpets sounded. An old priest had come up the stairs, carrying a light. She knelt before the Goddess, said a couple of prayers and stayed silent. I was put down on the temple besides the priest, and my chains disappeared. Then, the Goddess disappeared in a whirlwind, and appeared again in front of us with Her original beauty, but this time in regular human size. She snapped her fingers, and my nakedness was replaced by the modest clothes of a priestess. “Thank you, thank you my Goddess, my all!” I shouted with joy. She then disappeared. The old man got up, and I followed behind.
“We must take care of the temple,” he said in a commanding voice. Then I looked closely at his face for the first time. Behind the old man wrinkles, the white beard and the robes, I recognized my husband’s face.
That’s when I woke up, with a strong feeling of clarity and purpose. I now know. I couldn’t quite say what needed to be done concretely, but I know. The presence of the Goddess must be protected in both him, myself and all who worship Her. That’s why it works, that’s why I became so beautiful and happy. Many women go down this path- yet some of them become uglier, and the original bright feeling intheir slaves and themselves turn into mere, trivial sexual horniness.
Shall I take in more slaves? Shall I look for a King? All is allowed to me, but not all is convenient. Whatever helps the Goddess becomes incarnate, is good and must be done. Whatever is mere self-interest, is bad and must be rejected.
And so, with all of this in mind, I started making some moves. I started dating men again, see where it went. A couple of them made me desire regular intimacy again. One of them in particular, I could see myself ending up loving him. And yet, when I was about to try and let it be real, embrace him as my lover, a strong feeling of purity held me back. It felt like, if I was to accept a man again, everything would disappear, all this building up would have been for nothing. I could foresee that, after some volunteer power trip at seeing my husband worshipping me while I fucked another man, it would end in me losing interest in him, ditching him, and living a regular life with my new man. And then, it was the starting point all over again. No: I now could see that I was a priestess of the Goddess, and as such I was, ironically, a consecrated virgin. I was to know no man again: my place was as a worshiping vessel. As such, I dismissed all these men, and made it clear that I wished for no equality, no manly man, just total individual freedom with my slave at my feet.
I started talking frequently with an old high school acquisition, who had contacted me to let me know of his secret desires. Unlike most, he seemed like a geneuine worshiper. And yet, he added nothing of value to me: my slave was good enough on its own to cover all my needs; I didn’t need a second pair of hands. Furthermore, it had become clear to me, as I spoke to many men, that more was actually less. If the objective was purely material, then yes, the more slaves you have, the more rich and powerful you’ll become. But the level of connection that needed to be achieved between worshipper and worshiped in order for the Goddess to manifest Herfest was very intimate, and could not be achieved if you divided your time and tasks between many slaves. Just one man busy enough to be fully occupied with serving me from dawn to dust was better. Therefore, I was to have only one worshipping houseslave; but the door was open for more servants for logistical purposes. If someone could add something of value, I would accept his service from a distance; but the one to bring out the Goddess in me was to be the one that knew best where to find Her.
Nonetheless, I felt bad for the poor guy: he seemed genuine, and his hopes had gone up that he could find his purpose with me. I could see that he craved the Goddess’ presence.
Then I remembered Sarah! Quickly, I set up a meeting with the three of us. I explained to him that I was not accepting new worshippers, but that my friend was looking to get into it, and he seemed like a good prospect. I was surprised when I saw Sarah show up: she was playing the part. She was clothed with an elegant dress, wore her best jewelry, a wide, black hat and a transparent face veil. She was really attractive, but not in a slutty way, but in an unreachable sort of way. I smiled at the idea of wearing a veil. It would have never occurred to me, but it was verily in Sarah’s style. The Goddess manifests in each of us in a very individualized way: not two women have the same Divine Beauty.
They hit it off right away. After a couple of weeks, Sarah had already put him in chatity and he was going over on the weekends to worship her and do her chores.
One day, she invited me over. I took my slave with me. Lunch was ready, and I could tell that Sarah’s service was not as good a cook as mine. He needed some time still, I thought. She was radiant. She spoke a lot, telling me all about what was going on. She confessed that now she knew what all my speech about “the Goddess” was about: she could feel Her too. After lunch, her slave gave us a full body massage, and I must say that it was one of the best massages I had ever received. She had it good!
Sarah’s service started worshiping her feet. She motioned him, however, to kiss my feet as a sign of gratitude for what I had done for him. She did. “Thank you, Supreme Priestess,” were the word he uttered.
We were ready for a big fuck. I put the strap-on on my slave and started riding him. To my surprise, Sarah showed me a rather different approach. She got naked but did not remove her veil, which she seemed to enjoy wearing at all times now. She blindfolded her service, shackled his hands and gracefully made him lay on the bed. Then she put a straw-on not over his caged crotch, but over his mouth, and rode him while sitting on his face.
When it came time to say goodbye, we embraced. “The Goddess be with you, Sarah”, I told her.
“The Goddess be with you too, my dear friend.”
I went home feeling happy. The decision I made had beenfor the best. The Kingdom of our Goddess was expanding, and far better than it would have otherwise.
A couple of months later, I learned that Sarah’s service had fully moved in with her, and was now accepted as her full-time slave. While I called to congratulate her on the news, fully dressed, my slave was kissing and worshiping my ass. Once I hung up, I led him to my armchair, rose him up and kissed him. “What wonderful news this is.” I then sat down, and motioned him to knee down. “My pussy is waiting for your tongue, slave.”
“Yes, my Mistress” he uttered, and went down.
First, my husband also became my slave. Then, he stopped being my husband, and became just my slave. Now, Her Kingdom was expanding. I wonder, how will things change from now on? Because they will surely change, they will surely change indeed.
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