As I stand in front of the mirror, adjusting my maid’s uniform, I often find myself lost in thought. My master’s words echo in my mind, ‘You’re not just a maid, Janine, you’re my property.’ I’ve grown accustomed to this life, where my every move is dictated by his whims. It’s a peculiar feeling, one that I’ve grown to crave. My body, a tool for his pleasure, my mind, a prisoner of his desires.
People often ask me, ‘Janine, how do you cope with the humiliation?’ They can’t understand the rush of power that comes with being completely submissive. My master’s business partner, a man I’ve grown close to, often whispers in my ear, ‘You’re the only one who truly understands me, Janine.’ I smile, knowing that I’m the key to his desires, the one who brings him solace in a world that’s often cruel. My heart beats faster at the thought of being bound, of being at his mercy.
Some might call me a masochist, but I call it living. My life is a delicate balance of pleasure and pain, of submission and control. My master’s touch ignites a fire within me, a flame that burns brighter with each passing day. I’m not just a maid, I’m a vessel, a tool for his desires, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
>Soulkyn