Man Becomes Woman’s Property
It was the most holy and beautiful day of Darius’ life. Lana formally became his Mistress Owner. She took possession of his body and essence.
Darius, for a long time thought he was a masochist only. He had that erotic love of pain that is almost a superpower. He suffered as the pain toy of Mistresses and Masters. Post-scene rebounds were glorious. The world seemed gorgeous.
He submitted while chained. The session over, the subservience ended. His submission was a temporary contract.
One evening, Darius felt that the delirium of agony was no longer sufficient. There was a lack. On the periphery of his consciousness there was an impalpable quality. It had become necessary. How to capture what he could not clearly discern.
A frequent visitor of fetish parties and munch groups, Darius watched others with fresh interest. Could he unlock the puzzle of omission?
Some of the slaves and submissive persons’ eyes and manners suggested unblemished contentment. Petted by their dominant, each man and woman seemed elated. As if touch alone was a miracle of pleasure.
Some served sadists. Others were sex slaves. Several were service slaves. The latter did chores for a Domme or Dom but did not live or play with them. Pure service fulfilled them.
He talked to malesubs and femsubs. Each said it was a privilege to belong to someone so excellent. Servitude was an honor.
Darius could not understand their sustained joy. For weeks, he replayed the conversations in his mind. He feared he would never penetrate the mystery.
He woke one morning and thought “Reverence.” For them submission was akin to a religion. The worshiped tangible living Goddesses and Gods.
It took Darius time. Worshiping another person was a foreign idea.
Exploring his past sessions, Darius thought about the dominant persons for whom he felt the strongest gratitude. It was not their skills. Nor kinky imaginations. Not even if they were kind or rough.
There was some essential quality unique to them. He saw his gratitude contained much of worship. He had been ignorant of this element. Otherwise, he might have cultivated it.
Darius continued playing with sadists. A life without pain would be intolerably bland. He wanted more than whippings but the sting of the lash was still glorious.
With each new Mistress and Master, he hoped for a unique bond. They were gifted sadists and excellent persons but never inspired special reverence.
Lana was one of the cruelest tops he had ever played with. She openly exceeded his limits. Only slightly. She snickered at his consternation. During aftercare, he shivered, overwhelmed by pleasure.
Normally, never one to ask, Darius asked Lana if she would be willing to play with him in the future. She would and did.
Soon everyone noticed that Darius played exclusively with Lana. A surprise. He had always been a promiscuous masochist.
Never had Lana devoted so much time to a man.
Darius never asked her to be more vicious or milder. If she solicited his desires, he was plainspoken and honest. He could submit completely and confess his desires. Too many men were needlessly self-effacing; others were smart-assed masochists (SAMs).
Always, he showed gratitude.
The only aftercare Darius ever wanted was to lie quietly at Lana’s feet. She covered him with a blanket, stroked his hair.
Lana was used to the worship of men. The men often worshiped illusions of Lana. Darius’ reverence of her was pure and true.
Most importantly, Darius’ company was delightful. He could be a good companion, an advisor. When she felt weak, he was a strong shoulder.
One evening as she stroked his hair, Lana asked Darius what he wanted most in life.
He replied, “To be your property.”
Lana kissed the back of his head. She told Darius the next time they met; she would collar him. He must compose a prayer, begging for ownership.
That was a Sunday evening. Normally they would no see each other until Friday night. Lana told Darius to return Wednesday. Neither, she knew, could tolerate the strain of a week’s delay.
Darius barely slept. He kept writing and rewriting his vow to his Mistress Owner.
Wednesday evening, he let himself into Lana’s home. Stripping naked, he dropped to his hands and knees. He crawled to her. He knew she would be sitting in her favorite chair. One with a high back, patterned after a throne.
He kept his eyes down. Seeing her feet, Darius stopped. After a pause, Lana ordered him to speak.
Mistress please allow me a life of worship and servitude
Train me to give You perfect service
Teach me true humility
Discipline me when I deserve punishment
Hurt me if that is Your pleasure
I beg You to own my body, heart and mind
I plead to be Your slave and property
Lana brought out a collar. Tightening it, she made Darius her property. She would use him well.
Darius wept, happy to be collared and owned.