I must admit that I’m fascinated by slavery. Slavery not in the sense that it has during a 60-minute session in a professional Domina studio. But slavery in the sense it had in Ancient Rome or on the cotton plantations of nineteenth-century southern USA. I know, back then was not consensual but still, I can’t help Myself not to be fascinated by it.
For Me there is nothing more arousing then the transition of a male human being into a slave. My life partner is very good example. When I met him, he used to be a man. A man with a job to make a living, a man with his own money to spend, a man taking his own decisions. This now all is long gone. He gave up his job to have more time to serve Me. If he wants to pay for the drinks on a night out with his friends. he has to ask Me for some money first. Because he doesn’t own money anymore. He does not take decisions anymore on his own. If there is something to decide, he asks for My decision to then follow that precisely and without discussions. Seeing him so dependent on Me, sometimes is a bit laborious but it is also absolutely arousing. I do not want to have that anyway different.
Slavery needs to be recognizable at all times. The slave has to be clearly marked as such, for My pleasure and excitement, for his degradation and sometimes also for the attention of the general public. What is important in any case is, that the marking is irreversible. It symbolizes the status of the enslaved male, which is irreversible as well. Once become a slave, he will slave until he dies. Once marked, the mark will stay on him just as long.
There are several ways to do so and it is of course possible to combine them. The marking that does the job best for My taste is the branding. The symbolism of the branding is so strong: Branded like cattle, the slave really becomes his Mistress beast of burden. Compared to tattooing, the ceremony is so much more charming: The slave strictly tied to a comfortable bench with his naked ass protruded. Expectantly he is waiting for the red hot iron. Holding his breath. How alluring to ever extend his waiting phase in order to even increase the excitement of his owner and the slavish fear. Showing him the iron, first when it is still cold, presenting it for his kisses, then after it has been heated up to 900 degrees Celsius in the open fireplace. Tenderly describing in detail what will happen to him, whispering those endearing words of cruelty into his ears. Once more caressing his soft and white skin just at the very spot where it will soon be burnt to never recover again. Then the fizzling sound as the glowing steel meets the flesh. The smell of burning meat. The muffle screams of the slave in pain, the awareness of the finality of the procedure… Everybody who has ever witnessed the ritual will agree how oh so very wonderful this is. Much nicer than even the most beautiful necklace tattooed on his chest. No comparison even to a forged steel collar never to be removed. I love the branding!