There is no love purer than a slave for her master. Just check out Slaves In Love and you’ll see what I mean. Then read this tale of female submissive who is deeply in love with her dominate male partner.

I am as much a slave for my need to submit, as I am more a slave out of love for my Master.

He won me over with deep, drugging kisses and the feel of his calluses on my skin. My pussy gushes with thoughts of his lash and its stinging bite and the arousing shame and vulnerability that come with being bound for his pleasure.

It is for him that I waxed my pussy, leaving my flesh bare and smooth and his cock and tongue.

It is for him that I prepare myself now.

With loving care, I shower and massage scented lotion into my skin. I style my hair the way he likes it, line my eyes with Kohl and gloss my lips. It is with shaking hands that I open my dresser drawer and reach for the items he wants me to wear every time I see him. Moisture gushes from my pussy as I slide on the wrist cuffs with their metal rings. Similar restraints go on my ankles and I look at the matching rings he installed in the four posts of my bed, knowing that in less than an hour, I will be bound, spread and at his mercy.

My legs are shaking as I reach for the collar, knowing that the second I snap it into place, I am no longer myself. Once it goes around my neck, I am no longer me. I am a body made up of breasts, pussy, ass, and mouth. I am my Master’s to use as he sees fit.

The collar snaps into place and I am a true slave. There is no hesitation in my hands as I reach for the clamps. I moan as pain shoots through my nipples, making me even wetter.

I kneel, wet, panting and ready.