I’ve been a slave, of sorts, for close to 3 years. My owner loves me fondly, and I absolutely adore him. I hang on his every word and love his goofy, crooked smile and the way he fucks. When we are together, we live the life of Reilly. We smoke pot, drink top shelf tequila and spend half our time naked in bed watching Adult Swim cartoons. When we don clothes it is usually to visit our friends, who often sit around and drink and smoke, occasionally playing a wild game of Guitar Hero. I love our friends. I love our life. Lately I’ve been thinking about what it means to really be a slave, and if rather or not I really AM one. Am I?

I recently discovered FetLife, and signed up for an account. I’m a reviewer for EdenFantasys and I’ve noticed that fellow slaves often have accounts and mention them on their profiles. It struck my curiosity, as I had never heard of the site before. Admittedly, I haven’t had much activity on the site at all since signing up maybe three or four days ago. I’m not sure exactly what to do. At first I figured it was a kinky Facebook of sorts, but I’m just confused. A part of me is conflicted at talking to more people like myself, more people like my owner, my lover.

My owner has voiced wanting to meet and befriend “other people like us”, he calls them. Other slaves, other masters, maybe talk tricks of the trade and tips for cuff-rashes and hiding bruises. Neither of us wants to go to a club, one of those clubs where people of a like mind can find and play with others in that mindset. It’s too “swingy” for our tastes. Too personal. But talking to other people in the BDSM arena? What’s wrong with that?

My lover adores the scene as it’s called. Collared women, submissive and silent, seemingly versed in all ways of pleasuring a man, being able to withstand all pain, maybe some sorts of pain that I myself can’t take…yet. I’m always afraid one raven-haired beauty or another will catch his eye and woo him away, take him away to send his mind and body reeling. I’m jealous. Yes, let’s admit that’s the problem here. I’m jealous because he likes women in the stripe of Christina Ricci. I often picture petite slaves being chained to radiators, and what he would do to them. After all, I look sort of meek in comparison. I have long dark brown hair with bangs, glasses, and I wear jeans and T-shirts, and sometimes not even jeans, but these tight black Old Navy yoga pants. I’m not visually arresting or alluring. I don’t wear crimson lipstick and stilettos on a daily basis. I’m not physically svelte or splendorous. I have an hourglass shape with a mushy, soft belly and a round ass. He adores my large breasts, and losing weight makes me fear the loss of my DD assets. He often tells me I’m beautiful, but is that ever enough in any relationship?

I think I’m being somewhat hypocritical and bitchy. Aren’t I assuming what other more “vanilla” people assume? That BDSM-minded ladies are all dark-haired mysterious women with red lips and come hither eyes? That they can steal your man in an instant? Why do I think this? I’m a loved slave in a long-term relationship with a wonderful master. He’s a wonderful man. Loyal, respectful, charming, intelligent, funny, hung like a bull. I often wish I could be that “dark haired woman” he so deserves. Yes, it’s stereotypical. I apologize. But I do have some fears. But is this why I don’t want us to meet any other kinkster couples? Maybe.

Sometimes he mentions a certain “festival” of sorts in Atlanta. It’s a convention-center congregation of dominatrixes and collared subs being lead around on leashes listening to seminars on how to do this and that, how to find worthy fuck machines and leather equipment. I don’t want to go. “Why?” He always asks. I tell him I don’t know, which is the truth. Do I REALLY think he will be seduced by another more submissive slave? Doesn’t that kind of go against being what a slave is all about? I start thinking like this and my mind spins in circles. I know my thoughts and fears are irrational and unfounded. I know. I just can’t push past them when my master takes a gander at a “Goth chick” in the bookstore we are visiting. What’s he thinking? Probably thinking about how her pussy feels, how big her tits really are. Or maybe he’s thinking she’s a skank. I don’t know, nor do I want to know. I just know I want to be the only slave, the only submissive woman he is around.

Yes, it would be nice to get together with another couple or two or 8 for some wine and talk openly about our sexual life. It would feel so good to be accepted and understood. But it’s hard for me to picture being so close with people who I know are thinking the same way I am. Comparisons are often made, comparisons in the mind that drive me insane. I want to keep my master all to myself. He’s mine goddamnit. I’m the only one he should spank and tease and talk down to and humiliate. Not you or anyone else.

Am I really a slave, then? He calls me stubborn and feisty at times. I often say no and cry and he gives up doing whatever he was doing. I’m very selfish, greedy. A threesome would never work. Ever. But couldn’t we have friends? Maybe. If they’re ugly, I’ll think about it. As a slave, shouldn’t I be bowing down to his wishes, doing what he wants, what he tells me to do? Only recently have I started referring to myself as his slave. Of course he’s always called me his slave and I’ve called him my master, but technically, I worry I’m not making the grade, that I’m not official. It’s silly but when I signed up for FetLife, it asked me to identify myself in the community. I chose slave. And yes, it gave me pride and made me feel slightly more official. But I am still afraid of other slaves getting too close. Silly, huh?

I’ve taken a step in the right direction, I think. I’ve joined FetLife and have tried talking with other slaves in the EdenFantasys community. Striking up conversation and maybe friendship is so much easier through a computer, a box to contain people in. I’m trying to open up more. Slowly, it’s working. I will show this piece to him and let him ask me questions, and maybe he will sign up for FetLife, too and we can discover new people together. But would it be too much to ask that I know his password? I will give him mine as well, of course. I said I’m working on this slowly, dammit. It all takes time.