The common topic amongst my friends as of recently has been titles and what they mean to us, as well as what they mean to others. I have always said that I am not submissive...I am definitly not a slave either. That hasnt always been the truth. So for those of you who need to hear this, and you know who you are...I am gonna try to remember all of it. When I started in the scene, in 94, i was so very naive. I met a Master. He was married. He was 18 years my senior. It was ohhh so hot when I first met him. We watched the Story of O, and several other crazy indi films on bdsm and different cultures. My foundation rules were this.. 1. Not allowed to look anyone in the eye, unless invited to do so 2. Shave everything minus the hair on my head and my eyebrows everyday 3. Cook what was told of me to cook 4. Wait at the appointed time each day, nakid, on the floor of the living room, with all of his toys out, and again..no eye contact, and no verbal contact unless spoken to. 5. Forget everything I knew 6. Wear the clothes that he chose for me. 7. Work at places he approved of (usually his friends) 8. Answer the phone simply....Yes. 9. No friends unless approved 10. No money (even if earned ((I had to give him my checks))) 11. Never speak in public to anyone. 12. No driving unless instructed. 13. Had to ask permission to eat (unless not allowed to speak...then it got strange) 14. Had to keep a daily journal about thoughts, actions, and sexual desires. 15. I was NOT NOT NOT allowed to say "No" EVER 16. There were no safe words 17. No underware, unless instructed, and legs always apart 18. The house had to be imaculate So, it would go. For about 2 and a half years. He would come over to my house when he could. I would know cause he would call when he was 15 minutes away. Sometimes he would stop in on me unannounced. Then things got interesting. I would have to stop what I was doing, and quietly go to the bedroom, strip, bend over the bed and wait for him. He would leave sometimes without touching me or even talking to me. He just wanted to make sure that I was doing what I was told. We rarely talked. He would ask me about my past. He would ask me about the friends that I had. He would ask me what he needed to know to systematically strip me of everything I knew, everything I was, and everything that formed me. In the beginning I thought that this was so cool. I didnt have anything to think about. It was all thought out for me. My day was planned. I had a schedule. He decided that he wanted to have a few more slaves. He found them online, he would invite them to stay at my house. He would have sex with them, and cuddle, and coo over them while I slept at the foot of the bed on the floor. He would order me to bathe them, feed them, drive them where ever they would like to go. After a while, he had collected three more slaves. He had a tendency to collect slaves with multiple personality disorder. It was strange, and uncomfortable. We had gone to a couple of fetish and bdsm events together. I met several people there...But I couldnt tell you what they looked like. I never saw their faces. I was usually dressed in white, pink, or some other horrid color that I cant stand...but he liked it, cause it through me off balance. He liked to show people that he had trained me to cum. He would count back from 10 and at 1, I would shake and cry to everyones amusement. I know that this sounds hot to a lot of people. What happened after that....was not so hot. It took me four years to recover. When he broke up with me he simply called me and said "You have recieved all the training that I can offer. Sorry, we're done." I didnt have a bank account. I didnt have any money. I didnt know who I was supposed to pay the rent to. I didnt know what to eat. I didnt know what to wear on any given day. I didnt know what to do with my time. I didnt know anyone. I should have called my parents to tell them what had happened...but I didnt think that they would listen to me. I had not talked to them in over 6 months. He would only let me see them on the holidays. The power in the house went out. I had no money to pay for it. I was fired from the job that he got me. Soon the gas was turned off at the house as well. Then the phone. I would sit in my bedroom, waiting for something...not knowing what. In the dark with a candle, my cat, hungry, and scared. That was it. I was done. I have never heard from him again. I made some STUPID decisions after that relationship. I tried to rebel and got myself in more trouble. I wound up sleeping in my car. When I finally got sick...I went home to my family. They didnt ask questions, they didnt judge. I slept for the first time in a while in a bed...all to myself. I was fed..the same things that I ate when I was a kid. I went out and got a stupid job. I worked it for a while. Saved my money. Paid off some of the bills that I had incurred. I later filed for bankrupcy. Four years. It took me four years to figure out who I am. What I am. Why I am. And what I was going to do about it. The things that I know now. The red flags that waved so obviously didnt appear to me when I was 18. I should have known better. I hope that other people do. I hope that they can see through the facade of a Master. I hope that their Masters love them...the real them...the them that has friends and a life, but has this yearning to serve and be loved. If not, I hope that they have the strength to get out before it wipes them clean. I hope that you still love yourself and hold on to your titles...even if you are second guessing yourself