Selkie and her Owner

The following is the true life love story of Selkie the female slave and her male Owner and Master as written by Selkie and approved by her Master.  Please feel free to comment on this page or send me an e-mail at nrjb2@yahoo.com and I would be glad to forward your comments.  There may be more added to this page at a future date.

Part 1 is below.

Part 2 is at http://www.assdisc.com/blog/?page_id=267

 

Posted on September 27, 2012:

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I have been married to my Dominant for 16 years.  Sometimes I call Him “Owner”, and “Master” like most people seem to, because that’s what he is.  He calls me “slave”and really likes that, but I identify more as His servant because I would never presume to be such an outstanding submissive.  LOL, maybe He should just call me “humble”, because that’s what I am.  Humble, like Wilbur the pig in the children’s story, Charlotte’s Web.  Charlotte the spider writes within her web the word“humble” to describe Wilbur, because Wilbur was that.
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Its funny to make such a comparison because He is like a spider;  he binds me fast like a fly in a web and often bites me.  He even says, “Everyone’s gotta eat,” and He thinks spiders are cute, but they scare the bejesus out of me!  King Louis XI of France was called “the Spider King” because he spun webs of intrigue to bind all his European peers and keep them close to him, which was an advantage for France back in the 15thcentury.  But your not here for a history lesson, are you?  So, in honour of Louie XI’s fondness for (figuratively) tying people up, let’s call my Dominant “Louie”.
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I usually go by “Selkie”.  The story behind this comes from the creatures who dwell in the sea as gray seals, but shed their seal-skins and take on the likeness of humans whenever they come ashore to bask in the sun.  In this form they are very beautiful, and humans have been known to become so enamoured with them, that a few have dared to steal and hide the skins from their chosen selkies, for a selkie cannot return to the water without it’s skin.  If a man steals a selkie’s skin then she must remain in her human form and is in his power and forced to become his devoted wife.  Selkie women make excellent wives; they are attentive, accommodating, subservient and docile.
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This description of the selkie myth always puts me in mind of the way Louie  entered my life one day, with the intent of possessing me physically, emotionally, legally.  So we married 11 months after we met.
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Louie knew what He was doing, fortunately for me, because that subservient and docile description of a selkie wife also defines my basic character.  I think I would have gotten into trouble if someone less responsible had gotten a hold of me, first!  But Louie is very conscientious as a rule.  He has to be because some of the things He has put me through over the years would have broken me, otherwise.  Although I was hardly a blushing virgin when we met, I wasn’t very experienced in romantic relationships.  Add to that, I expected a degree of freedom from my partner.  Not a lot, I did have a very traditional upbringing, but some freedom.  Well, more than what Louie certainly had in mind for me, anyway!
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He introduced me to ropes and shackles and complete immobility while He did what He wanted with me.  He tied me up, He tied me down, He tied me to whatever was nailed down, and some things that weren’t.  Sometimes it was only long enough for Him to relieve Himself with my body, sometimes I would be tied up for a couple of hours, teased relentlessly or forced to orgasm, and he’d use me periodically throughout.  It took some getting used to at first, but I soon came to like it, then love it.
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The very first time He tied me up, I will never forget.  We were going for a short hike in a state park near where I lived at the time and we were talking about the idea of bondage.  We had been to bed a few times already and He was an experienced and sensitive lover. He had already told me that he was into it and had given me some time to think it through.  I had waited for Him to bring it up again, to see how serious he was because to be honest, I really didn’t know what to think about it.  On this walk, He asked me if I had considered it at all.  Ha!  It’s kind of hard to think about anything else when your boyfriend reveals these kinds of proclivities and then asks you if you would consider indulging Him.  I mean, I had heard of it, and understood it to be something harmless that some folks just like to do while having sex.  But He was proposing doing this to me,and that’s a little different.  And the truth was, it sounded a little exciting but scary at the same time.  We had only known each other a couple of months.
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Nevertheless, in my 21 year old mind, I figured that was long enough (whats that they say about hindsight?).  I looked Him in the eye, and looked back down at the trail ahead of us and shrugged my shoulder – you know, I wanted to come across like I wasn’t that concerned about it.  I’m normally a very stoic person and I never let myself get rattled by a whole lot.  I said,“Yeah sure, if you promise to untie me when I ask.”
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At that point he stopped me, turned me to face Him and said, “I will, I promise.  I want you to understand,”  At this point He reached into His inside jacket pocket and pulled out a short length of cotton rope of the type I used to hang my laundry on, and I think my mouth may have dropped open.  But He continued, “that if you want me to stop what I’m doing, ever,”  His tone had become lower and His breathing changed,“I will.  Just promise me that you will speak up.  Okay?”
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I went numb, but nodded anyway.  I was suddenly very aware that we were out in the woods, in the middle of November, without anyone else around.  It was very, very quiet.  “Say that this is okay, don’t just nod at me like you have no voice, Sel.”
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For better or worse, right there in those woods I told him “Yes.”
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I’ll never forget the look that came over His face then, he smiled like a kid in a candy store.  Then he grabbed my arm and started walking quickly up the trail and babbling on about “how much fun we were going to have,” and “let’s look for the right tree!”  His enthusiasm was a surprise, and I thoughtWell, how bad can this be?
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After a few minutes of critiquing each tree we came across, he seemed to find the right one.  He asked me once again if I would be okay with this, and I assured him that I would.  Heck, he made it feel like it was going to be great fun!  He instructed me to stand with my back to the hickory and put my hands around behind to the other side.  When I did that, smiling, He tied them together in a way I couldn’t figure out by feel.  I was still smiling like an idiot when He very quickly pulled the rope tight.  Really, really tight!
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When he came around to the front of the tree, He was still smiling, but everything else had changed.  He was serious, now.  He told me that He knew it was tight, and that he wanted to know when it became uncomfortable.  Then He stood back to look at me, tied to this hickory.  He just absorbed the sight like a sponge.  He told me that I was even more beautiful like this; vulnerable and defenseless.
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That afternoon, he did not use me to relieve Himself in the woods tied to that tree, he only undid my layers of clothing and pull down my jeans to expose me and watch me grow cold.  He touched me, and His touch was so warm, I tried to push into His hands, wherever they were, but he would withdraw. He refrained form making love to me like that just yet – I was a little unsure of it, and so He didn’t want to push me too hard my first time.  But he did make me tell Him when I became uncomfortable, and I thought He would untie me then but He didn’t.  Instead He told me to describe my discomfort to Him.  I always had a fairly high threshold, so discomfort didn’t bother me too much, but when discomfort crossed the threshold into pain, I started to show it by struggling just a little to relieve it.  This clearly had an effect on Him, and He started caressing me here and there, telling what a good girl I was, how much He wanted me for His very own, kissing me tenderly on my erogenous zones.  He asked me to describe how I was feeling.
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Well, it was starting to hurt, so I told Him that and His kisses and sweet nothings increased and His touching became slightly more insistent, pinching, inserting a finger to gauge my sexual response, with which he seemed satisfied.  He kissed me all over my exposed skin and told me that it was okay, He would untie me soon.  He told me that I did well, and that He was very pleased with me.
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Something clicked in my head and in my body at that point: I pleased Him. I pleased Him! After a few more minutes,  He opened His jacket and shirt to expose His chest and wrapped it all around me to warm me up and spoke into my ear, “I don’t want to untie you…” I stood on tip-toes tilted my hips towards His and whispered to Him, “Don’t.”  He didn’t release me from that warm and painful cocoon as He untied my hands, and I kissed His mouth and thanked Him.  He laughed under His breath and asked me what I was thankful for, that He was the one who was thankful.  I didn’t know what exactly I was thankful for, I just knew that something had shifted for me.  But it was a pleasant shift, so despite the initial strangeness of our following encounters I continued to consent to this kind of activity again and again.  Before too long, I found pleasure in the discomfort and eventual pain to the point that I asked Him to push my limits.  His pleasure with me became my impetus to continue and work harder for Him.  I can’t imagine that any drug is as exciting as sex with this man is, and all I knew was that I wanted to experience that for the rest of my life!
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Over time, our play evolved from just bondage to include impact play.  I’m crafty, I know how to sew leather, which came in very handy back when there were very few websites that sold S&M equipment for less than your first-born (we were at a disadvantage there since we had no kids).  I lovingly hand-crafted our floggers, paddles and tawses out of kangaroo hide, which seems to be more resilient than cow-hide (regardless of that, I’ve had to replace our flogger every year, Master loves to flog!).   But this was great too, since I could customize our toys however He wanted them:  He preferred a 3-tailed tawse, as it left such sharp welts.  To this day, with a wealth of BDSM toys available, he still loves it when I create with my own hands, a tool for Him to hurt me with.
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But that was the easy part, the sexual freedom was exhilarating!  Is it appropriate for a woman to fellate her partner in a dressing room?  It didn’t matter, He wanted it in that dressing room.  Is it lady-like to masturbate in the front seat of the car on the highway?  Probably not, but He doesn’t give a flip about what my mother would think.  None of those social rules were for me to worry about, my job was to just do as I was told.  If we got caught by someone (and we did), He assumed the responsibility. That was His job.  It was incredibly liberating, all that was required of me was to be available for whatever favor he wanted from me.  “I don’t want you to think, I want you to kneel,” became a phrase I often heard  from Him.
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I liked being used by Louie, at His discretion and convenience.  Except it wasn’t terribly convenient when I was working hard at my career.  Our work schedules were at odds half the time, I worked days, He often worked evenings.  When He awoke in the mornings with a raging erection, I had long since vacated the bed and gone to work.  But we were just making the rent in those days, so we both needed to work.  I tried to arrange my schedule and was only successful at it for a short time.  I was a research assistant to a scientist, and was on my way to becoming a published author of peer-reviewed articles.  The scientist I worked under was an important person and I was determined to become important, too.
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But Louie’s work was more important than mine, and He was always paid more than me.  The writing was right on the wall in front of me:  If one of us had to quit for whatever reason, I was the most likely candidate.  Now, I am going to relate that it took me 6 years to graduate college, because my family had no money and I had to support myself and my pay for my own schooling.  I worked very hard doing jobs most people wouldn’t even consider because the pay was very good.  Suffice it to say that I never had to remove one stitch of my clothing for a paycheck, nor did I sleep with my professors.  I went about it without taking the easy way out.  I lived in hovels and worked, studied and worked some more. I didn’t have time for a social life.
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So, I worked for what I had. A few years after we married, I quit my career.  We never had any children, so I didn’t quit to raise kids.  I quit because Louie finally put His foot down.  His career is more important, and He demanded all of my attention and focus, 100% of it.  If  He could get away with it, Louie would have me on a leash at His side every minute of the day.
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**God, that would be great!**
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It was all very overwhelming for someone who had not been trained for this prior to engaging in a relationship with a Dominant, especially one as intense as Louie.  Sometimes the bondage He utilized in play was overwhelming to me because of the symbolism – I was already so completely bound to Him!  Often after a play session, I would drop pretty hard because of it.  Initially, we did not know anything about sub-drop.  Of course it made sense that the sudden absence of endorphins and adrenaline would have an effect, but that effect was exacerbated by the 180 degree change in my life.  I understood that I was a submissive, He had explained that, but I didn’t really get it.  I didn’t know that it was something that was okay to do outside the bedroom, and yet, nothing felt more “right” to me.  Up until I submitted to my Spider King, my subconscious desires had engaged in battle with my practical notions pressed on me by vanilla society.  The result was that I had felt that if someone had only scratched my surface, they would expose the real – and wrong – me.
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This was the real work for us, and this is where mistakes were made.  I considered myself weak.  I knew I would never be able to stand up to Him in an argument, and I thought that it was because I had this weakness in me.  I thought that submission equaled weakness and I hated that about myself.  I fought Him to test myself and I lost because I was too afraid to be a strong, independent woman.  As far as my friends and family and myself were concerned, I was inherently flawed. I tried to be stronger by fighting Him, I thought that was the answer.  But each time we fought the dynamic broke down a little more.
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And the more that happened the more insecure Louie became.  We were both in our twenties, and Louie had the same insecurities most men have.  His insecurities became entangled with mine and we were a mess at times.  But the D/s dynamic served us well in a way that we didn’t forsee:  For us, D/s only worked because we communicated about things.  My first time tied up to that hickory tree when He wanted to know everything I was feeling? That was the model upon which we based our relationship.  It may have taken us a few rough years and a lot of heartache, but we worked things out to where we are both happy.
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I have been told that most women would not acquiesce to the choices presented to me by my Dominant, and part of me knows it all too well.  Sometimes though, I hear that a good slave should do all these things and so I am always a little surprised when I hear that most women (even submissive ones), wouldn’t give everything up to their Dominants the way I have. Always, I am asked why I gave up a a hard come-by career by vanillas and kinksters alike, which is a hard question because without sounding trite and cliché I just don’t have an answer.  Because love made me do it.  See?  Trite and cliché!
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I accepted Louise a long time ago, which means that I accepted His ways.  Yes, He is different.  No, He’s not a “new man”, he’s a Dominant.  Sure, it could very well be that most vanilla women would  rather shoot Him than love Him (can you imagine!)  But its who he is, and I wouldn’t have Him change for me.  If he changed, he wouldn’t be the Man I initially fell in love with, so what’s the point?  He dominates, and that’s how He shows His love for a woman – If he didn’t love me, He wouldn’t bother.
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Similarly, submitting to a man is exactly the way I want to love him, that was what had clicked inside me that day in the woods all those years ago (although it took me a few years to accept that, because I am stubborn).  I am the only woman who’s ever given herself over completely to Louie, and that’s all He’s ever wanted. I’ve accepted all of Him, as he has gladly accepted all of me, by allowing Him to express His deepest desires, however dark they get.  I take it all for Him because I don’t know another way to be in love with someone.
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So in short, it came down to my career or my Master.  He would not have left me, divorced me, or even stopped loving me, but I would have lost a portion of His control over me, and that was too exciting and too important to both of us to give up.  A lot of people will never understand but I’ve learned to let that go for the most part, because the only one I need to please is Master.
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And a submissive is only as good as their Dominant:  If He had not been available for me emotionally as I worked through the harder aspects of  my role in our relationship, if He had disciplined me for raging at him without then supporting me by looking closely at what I was angry at and then maybe changing whatever needed changing, we would not have achieved the dynamic we have today.
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My situation may have been made easier for me if I had been permitted by Louie to research D/s on the internet (not that there was loads of information out there just yet), but I wasn’t because Louie wanted our relationship to be completely organic.  This avoided a lot of confusion that I see today on-line with people constantly questioning themselves, “Am I doing it right?”, and I can ignore the naysayers who tell me I’m not.  It probably would have helped me recognize my talents and take pride in myself earlier.  But then just as likely, I might have been criticized as a “doormat”, and that would not have helped, either.  And anyway, it doesn’t matter because I know who I am now and I very rarely doubt myself anymore.  My submission is all mine.
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Well, it’s Master’s too!

5 thoughts on “Selkie and her Owner

  1. Selkie, you write as though you are quoting my thoughts! I never expected my experiences could be so similar to anyone elses. You just pen them better than I ever could. Thank you! This was beautiful !!

    • Thank you collaredbrit! I also couldn’t believe how similar my life was to other’s in the lifestyle. I usually thought I was just some kind
      of freak until recently. I wish there was a way of knowing how many of us are out there…

  2. Good to hear from a selkie. I used to be mesmerized by the beautiful heart and mind of a woman who so designated herself.

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