The flight was non-eventful, but the anxiety mounted from the moment she left her home and built in waves of nausea and adrenaline as her voyage drew closer to her arrival in California. Her bladder was constantly under pressure, but she was told she could not relieve herself, and despite her discomfort, she knew she had to obey. She preyed she wouldn’t arrive having already wet herself, but she considered briefly that would please him somehow.
They met on the internet, in a bondage chat room. She knew not what drew him to her, nor she to him, but there was something pulling them together like celestial bodies. She had joined the alternative lifestyle sites on a whim, thinking somehow that her life could become something other than what it was. He had begun to close his vice around her from afar, and she was taken by it—washed away in his control over her life. At first it was just silly things he told her to do—the very first she merely pretended to do, lying to him over the ether of the internet, where truth is malleable and fantasy reigns supreme. But he even explained to her that there was no real pleasure in mere fantasy. She would either do as he said in ‘real-time’ or he would not play with her at all. Then she began to do the things he commanded even he could neither verify nor refute. But she knew he knew. She followed his dictates faithfully, and something began to change in her. She lived now with purpose, oddly granted her through her obedience to his command. This went on for a while, but she began to crave more. And he applied pressure gradually, until they both knew it would come to this.
In the days leading up to her departure from home, arrangements were made at his request. She gave her notice at work. He rented a storage facility where all of her possessions would be stored for the term of her service. She was to arrive with nothing more than the clothes she was instructed to wear—a beige miniskirt that barely covered her ass, thigh-high stockings with intricate lace tops, garters that reached visibly down from that tiny skirt for all to see, a halter top that was tight enough to display her firm nipples at all times, black boots and a black choker with stones around it. And the mark. She’d had to go to a bizarre body piercing place in Red Bank where he’d arranged for her slave registry number to be permanently inked onto her ass cheek. 017-622-6369.
There were contracts he’d sent via FedEx for her to read and sign. He’d made the point that these documents were completely non-binding and would never hold any legal weight, but they were to be considered to be absolutely binding in the world she was about to enter. They outlined the terms of her slavery to him. She was basically agreeing to become his property for a term of one year. His dominion over her was absolute. She would sign over her body, mind and spirit to him, giving him the authority to do everything for her in return for her service to him. Oddly, he could do anything he wished to her and yet she could terminate the agreement at any time. It was a typical contract for slavery such as this. She also signed papers surrendering her bank account to lawyers who would hold her life savings, a mere $322.23, in escrow until her term was over. He’d also placed a larger sum in another account, which would become hers with interest after her year was up. The sum for her term was $50,000. Other slaves fetched more or less, really, depending on the circles they played in, and the level of training they had received. Lea was untrained, and she was lucky her Master was generous enough to consider her worth anything.
