The Slave…Part I

March 2018. We got together for our monthly wine night with Vic, Paddington, Ry and Shers. Once the general conversations began and the wine started flowing, Shers mentioned that she had a man in mind for me.

She met someone who she thought would be compatible with me. She wanted to help me get over Big Country and move on. 

She had been seeing a personal trainer, who was helping her get in shape after baby #2. She said that after getting to know him, she thought we would be a great fit together; and had recently mentioned me to him and showed him my photo. Apparently, he was interested. 

She showed me his picture on Facebook and he was attractive. He looked “wholesome” if that makes sense. He had a lot of promotional photos for his personal training gym. He also had the cutest photos of his dog.

His stats sounded promising. Mid-thirties. Owned a successful personal training gym (down the street from my house). Owned his own home. Drove a nice car. Owned a cute ass dog. All in all, he had his shit together. She said he was genuinely nice, friendly, funny and had good energy.

Sounded like a decent pedigree thus far.

I gave her permission to set it up. I mean, what the fuck did I have to lose? So far, only three months in, 2018 was pretty dismal in terms of men. Big Country ghosted my ass when we fought New Year’s day, he then professed his “love” for me after the death of a colleague, and TTC just didn’t work out the way I hoped

Again, I thought I was ready for something new.

Shers said that she would chat with him at her next session and would keep me posted.

April 2018. Shers reached out to me as soon as her training session was finished. She said that he was totally interested. I got excited.

There was ONE CONDITION.

I asked her how there could already be a condition and what the fuck could it be?! We hadn’t even spoken to each other or met!

She casually mentioned that he wanted to be my slave. I read that text again and then several more times. Shers was just laughing when I messaged her back.

She laughed and said that he wanted someone to dominate him, he wanted to run someone my errands and be my bitch.

I laughed and couldn’t wrap my head around it. We both laughed. I think I may have even blushed! I told her that I wasn’t interested in some sex fetish slave/dominatrix stuff. Shers said it wasn’t about sex at all. She said to try it out, that it would be fun. He just wanted to do my “chores”. (But at what cost?)

I was intrigued. What was this, if not for some type of sexual gratification? What did I have to lose?

I jokingly messaged him on Facebook – “So I heard I’m a slavemaster. What does this entail?”

He messaged almost immediately, “holy shit, we’re actually doing this?!”

He then proceeded to explain that he wanted to be my bitch, to be completely humiliated and degraded, but not in the bedroom; not at all in a sexual way. He said it wasn’t about sexual favours. 

He asked me to send a list of things I wanted done. For example, he said that if I had a boyfriend, he would be our “driver” on a date night and pay for our dinner. 

He didn’t want to date me, he wanted to be used by me.

I laughed my ass off every time we messaged. Like, was he fucking for real? I for some reason felt embarrassed. What was in it for him?

I thought, what the hell, so I sent a list…

My list was lengthy. It included; getting my Uggs professionally cleaned, replacing the zippers on a few jackets; fix the hole in my leather jacket, getting a few of my heels fixed and cleaned, getting my nails done, taking me out for an expensive dinner of my choice, etc.

He was super excited. I asked him what he wanted in return, cause bitch, I know this shit ain’t for free. (excuse the contraction, but it was warranted).

His answer was simple in theory, but far more complex in execution. He wanted total and utter humiliation. For example, he wanted me to spit in his face, slap him, use him as a human chair, make him lie in puddles while I step on him.

He offered to pay me $100/hour to sit on his chest (essentially suffocating him, fully clothed) while I watched movies. The catch was, it had to be done at my house. (Fuck Vic would volunteer to sit on this dude’s chest if I let him). He wanted to clean my house. I just couldn’t take it all in. How would I explain this shit to my other roommate, mother? LOL.

I was taken aback. I talked to Queen B and my cousin Cocoy about it. Queen B and I laughed and she said to go for it, start small. Only engage in what I was comfortable with. She sent me a bunch of articles detailing the different kinds of submissive/dominant relationships. I learned several interesting facts: that it isn’t always about being sexual/dominated in the bedroom; it was a lot more common than people think; there are variations in these types of relationships; leave judgement at the door; and there is great potential to make a lucrative living out of this arrangement. 

There was so much information and it was all very interesting. I felt like I was into it, and wondered how far I could take it.

Cocoy was all for it. He told me of his experience where a man pretty much paid for everything and if he was late on payments, there were penalties (i.e. if Cocoy’s slave was late on payment or couldn’t fulfill a task, the penalty was always monetary). All Cocoy had to do was humiliate the guy (i.e. make him bark like a dog). It was never about having sex. Apparently since I had the upper hand in this arrangement, I was the rule and penalty maker.

Interesting. Very interesting.

The Slave and I continued messaging each other. He was pretty excited about being my bitch. He suggested that we use nicknames. I could call him anything I wanted (he especially liked ‘loser’, ‘bitch’ and ‘asshole’). I enjoyed those names. I preferred ‘Errand Boy’. It had a nice ring to it. 

He was to call me ‘Queen’ or ‘Master’. 

I never had to say please or thank you; I was to demand what I wanted.

This, my friends, was empowering and a turn on. (Although my pubescent embarrassment never quite fully went away).

I definitely wasn’t ready to use him as a human couch/chair or to spit in his face, but I could start small. We decided that the first set of tasks he was going to complete were to get my Uggs cleaned; fix every shoe in my collection that needed it (like getting new heel caps on my stiletto’s); replace the zippers on a few coats; fix the pocket on my leather jacket; and get my dry cleaning done. In exchange, I was to allow him to either kiss my ass (literally, but with clothes on) or my feet. I agreed that he could kiss my feet.

We arranged for him to pick my things up a few days later.

That Saturday, he messaged me when he was outside. I was fucking nervous. I had several bags of clothes and shoes for him. He parked on the road. I walked up to his car, we both said hello and he immediately asked for instructions on the items and when I needed the stuff back. No introductions. No pleasantries. I pulled everything out of the different bags and explained what was needed. I told him that I wanted it all as soon as they were ready. He thanked me and asked if he could kiss my feet. I said yes. He laid flat on his stomach in the grass and gently kissed the tops of both feet. I wore flip-flops on purpose. He thanked me again, I said “you’re welcome” and then he left.

That was it.The exchange might’ve lasted a total of 4 minutes. 

Fuck, I could get used to this. I can get all of this done without the “first date” interview, without the awkward conversations and expectations? Why wasn’t everyone doing this?

As I told people about what was going on, they were shocked and utterly supportive (lol). They were giving me outrageous ideas about what to do with him. It was pretty entertaining and hilarious. Vic tried putting an order in for new Chucks….fucking guy.

I discovered that it was all much easier said than done.

I finally updated Shers on what was going on. She had no idea that he was serious about the slave stuff. She thought it was more weird than funny by this point.

A few weeks later, and minimal messaging back and forth (chit chat was not part of the deal), my items were ready. I waited for him outside. He pulled into the driveway and took everything out of his car. I felt awkward. Here was this stranger handing me my dry-cleaning, shoes, jackets, etc. I put everything in the house and stepped back outside. He asked if there was anything else I needed. I said not at the moment. He got on the ground, kissed my feet, thanked me for letting him run my errands and left.

This exchange lasted maybe 3 minutes.

When I got back in the house I tore everything open to see what the results were. My Uggs looked brand new, my stilettos and jackets were ready to wear and my dry cleaning was all in order. It was amazing! I couldn’t help but laugh at the whole situation. It just didn’t seem real!

In the following weeks he kept asking what else he could do for me. I just so happened to have a tattoo appointment coming up and told him that he should drive me down and pay for my session. He said he couldn’t because he had a prior engagement. Then I suggested that he take me to my nail appointment and pay for that. Again, he said he had to check his schedule. What kind of slave was he? I had to go based on his schedule? 

May to August 2018. Our contact was minimal during this period. I honestly just couldn’t muster up the courage to spit in or slap this guys’ face or use him as a human couch.

Now, if I had my own place, the house cleaning and human couch surfing would’ve more likely happened. 

SIDE NOTE – If any of you are in this situation and have suggestions on how to take advantage of said situation, please let me know. (Fast forward to COVID times, he has reached out to me.)

I could have made money and got shit paid for if I was willing to absolutely humiliate him. This should have been a no-brainer. I think one of the things that made it hard was the fact that when I saw him he would greet me with this friendly smile and he was super approachable. Like I said before, he looked wholesome. I was not able to picture someone else. He was just too damn nice.

I thought I could muster up feelings of anger and hate, so that I could take it out on him, but it wasn’t in me.

I was grocery shopping at Sobey’s one afternoon and noticed him in one of the aisles with a woman. I avoided him as much as possible. When I went to check out, I noticed that I was a few people behind them in line. I could see in my peripheral that he saw me; and when he did, he put his hoodie on low over his face. I kept my head down and I just couldn’t stop laughing. That poor girl he was with probably had no idea about his “hidden pleasures” (or maybe she did?) Either way, it was hilarious.

The next offer he made me shortly after seeing him at Sobey’s was that he would bring me lunch and pick me up whatever I wanted from the liquor store. 

Fuck yes. 

I told him that I would love that, but I would only let him kiss my feet. He was fine with it.

I texted him my order – a massive sushi lunch (enough for me and mom), a few Sapporo tall cans, my favourite wine and a bottle of gin. He arrived promptly and mentioned that I had expensive taste. I brought my stuff into the house and stepped back out. He got on his hands and knees, kissed my feet and left. 

I wished I had the guts to go further with this. Look at what I got in exchange for him kissing my feet! I could’ve capitalized the shit out of this, but it gave me anxiety thinking about pursuing it further. It just didn’t feel quite natural or easy.

Friends even told me to picture him as the asshole Big Country, and take all of my anger and frustrations out on the Slave. It was a great idea, but again, easier to execute in theory.

Things fizzled quite quickly. By the end of the summer, I had surrendered myself to the inability to go further with the Slave. There were no goodbye’s or anything. He would continually check in to see if there was anything else I needed, but I had nothing for him since he wanted me to take it to the next humiliating level; as much as a fantasy as it was to have someone pay my way, I wasn’t willing to spit in his face for it; but don’t get me wrong, I wish I could. 

Not only that, whenever I made a suggestion, he was always too busy. I told him there needed to be consequences for his failure to fulfill my simple expectations; he didn’t take action.

I think the things I wanted were too entry level. I guess if I had been prepared to be more physically/mentally degrading, he would’ve been more available to me.

Why couldn’t I just humiliate the fucking guy?! (insert suggestions here)

He continued reaching out every so often, asking if there was anything I needed, but I just couldn’t be bothered. I could do my own dry cleaning and buy my own damn lunch on my own time.

He has not stopped messaging me, out of the blue. It is empowering to know that I have him on the back burner.