Diary of a chain slav girl

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Diary of a chain slave

John Silver


I worked in the offi Catherine ce as a small clerk. The work is boring, tedious and poorly paid. Life dragged on drearily, sometimes the cavaliers brightened up my monotonous course. The last gentleman introduced me to the culture of BDSM. He would put me in shackles, put on a collar, and put me on a chain. It turned him on and me on, and I liked the game. But now he’s gone somewhere and I’m alone again. I’m saved by a friend I sometimes meet when I can’t stand it.

When I searched the Internet, I often came across stories about slaves. They were all cruel and hopeless. The slaves had an unenviable fate. There are many perversions, humiliations, and tortures on the Internet. I hate it.

But one day I came across a chain slave contract, and it interested me. It turns out that if everything is legally correct, then the slave remains under the protection of the law and all these horrors no longer threaten her. The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to try it, but I didn’t know how to do it. And I went to my friend Martha to consult. It turns out that she knew about such a contract. She met my offer with hostility at first, and then, after my arguments, she agreed to help, and we began to discuss it. We went online, studied the contract again, and decided that it sufficiently protects a woman from trouble. After all, consensual slavery is not something where women are bought in the slave market.

I decided to try what it was, and we outlined a plan of action. First, all slaves wear rings on the nipples and in the nose, so I went to a special salon, where a specialist made holes in the nipples and inserted rings there. I chose the largest ones available.

Then, under local anesthesia, he made a hole in the nasal septum and inserted a medicine wick into it. Now he had to wait for it to heal. At work, they asked me what was wrong with my nose, and I replied that it hurt, and this is medicine.

After two weeks of intensive care, the wounds healed. I quit my job, went to the same salon and the master put a ring in my nose, I chose again the largest and thickest, as I saw in the drawings.

Then I moved in with a friend, and we started the second phase of training. We went to a special store and bought a complete set of shackles, chains, and other things.

After that, I moved in with my friend, Martha, to live. The friend lived in a small house on the outskirts of the town. There was a tiny garden enclosed by a hedge from the neighbors.

The contract says that the slave has sufficient experience of wearing leg and hand shackles and sitting on a chain. Since I have not had such experience, it is necessary to acquire it. In the photos, the slaves were on very short chains, this alerted us, then we realized that this was for a photo shoot.

It was early summer and quite warm. Martha undressed me completely and put on my leg shackles and a steel belt, to which was attached a supporting chain of leg shackles. Next, Martha fastened the hand shackles on me.

Then I put on a collar with a chain 8m long, the end of which she fastened to an iron pipe in the hallway so that I could go into the kitchen, toilet, bathroom and bedroom.

All the shackles and collars were shiny and had built-in locks, and I looked amazing in them. I liked it so far.

So, even though it was a no-brainer, I began the life of a chain slave. The first time was unusual and strange. I walked on chains, my shackles jingling, and I had to sleep in them, too. It was hot, so during the day I went naked (I got used to the image), and in the evening, when it became cooler, I put on a skirt and threw a scarf over my shoulders. After a week, I got a little used to my situation, as long as it was a game and nothing more.

Martha trained me for an hour every day: how to walk, how to address the owner, not to look him in the eye, to show respect. I think she’s losing her talent as a matron. Then, over dinner, we discussed the next steps. We were fascinated by the idea, and we thought about it all the time. We slept together in the same bed, and Martha caressed me a little. I was pleased, but my flesh demanded a man.

Martha went on to say that slaves were branded with red-hot irons.

— Are you going to brand me with a hot iron?” I don’t agree.

But Martha calmed me down, I’ll paint the brand with paint. She brought a bottle of indelible red body paint and used a brush to draw a lily on her left breast and a large S on her cheek.

It was Martha’s birthday in about three weeks, and we decided, or rather, she decided, and I had to agree, to celebrate it in a small group. But how to introduce me to her friends: not in chains. Then Martha said that you will play the role of my slave: you will prepare the table, you will serve the guests. I’ll teach you how to curtsy and tell you the rules of behavior.

— And what to answer if I will be addressed?

— And nothing, I will say that I bought you in Poland, and you do not know our language at all.

On the appointed day, we took the table out on the veranda, Martha bought the groceries, and together we made chops and baked a pie. I put on a short floral skirt and a transparent blouse, for which Martha cut it at the shoulders and sewed on the strings. At the appointed time, several couples arrived, and among them Martha’s beau. I sat in the kitchen and heard their noisy greetings and congratulations.

Then Martha announced that today we would be served by a slave girl she had bought, for the occasion, in Poland. She’s used to living on a chain, so I chained her up, too. She doesn’t know our language at all, so don’t pay any attention to her. There was a silence, and Martha led me in with a tray of sweets. Everyone stared at me in complete shock. I almost laughed, but I didn’t. Martha added that it is now becoming fashionable. Everyone was shocked by what they saw and didn’t know what to do.


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