The Interview

"From the moment I laid eyes on him, I knew that he would be Mine," The Mistress said proudly, referring to Her slave.  "The way I took control of him was so natural and easy, as if it had always been so," She continued musingly. Her companion sat across the table from The Mistress in rapt attention, furiously taking notes about everything The Mistress said. "So how long exactly has he been your slave now?" she asked The Mistress, nervously chewing on the end of her ballpoint pen. The Mistress ran Her fingers through Her thick mane of long curls and Her deep brown eyes narrowed pensively as She thought back.  She took a slow sip of Her cappuccino. "It's well over four years now." She replied simply.

"And has he always been this submissive?"  the reporter asked The Mistress. "I mean, were there times that he resisted you?" she asked breathlessly.
"Well, there was a time early on," The Mistress replied, "when his mind was willing, but his spirit was somewhat reluctant."
"So how exactly did you handle that?" the reporter asked with pen poised.
"I took control," The Mistress replied calmly.
"In what way?" the reporter queried.
"A little at a time," The Mistress replied with a wry smile. "I demonstrated to him that he belonged to Me."
"What did you do?"
"I began by restricting the things that he was allowed to do.  I refused him the privilege of having an orgasm when he wanted it. I severely restricted his sexuality, and it wasn't long until he groveled at My feet, begging for permission to masturbate."
"That's all?" The reporter asked incredulously.
The Mistress glanced quietly at the reporter, wondering how specific She was going to have to be to get her to understand the dynamics that take place between a slave and his Owner.
"Well, there was more," The Mistress replied. "If you will refrain from asking any questions until the end of My story, I'll be glad to tell you."
"Absolutely!" the reporter promised.
"I set out to convince him that his sexuality was dependent on Me and not him.   I did this by withholding sexual pleasure from him over long periods of time, allowing him to masturbate in front of Me until he almost climaxed, and then just before, I would make him stop. At first he wanted to put on an act of outrage, but he didn't get very far. One night I chained him against the wall in My bedroom, silenced him with a ball-gag, applied nipple clamps with weights, and then kept him there all night, watching, while I had wild, insane sex with a well-hung, energetic young man. Periodically, the young man or I would go over to him and torturehis nipples by lifting and dropping the weights. I remember how he moaned and groaned through the ball gag as we did this."
A smile spread over The Mistress's face as She related this story.
"And that's how you took total control?"  the reporter asked.
The Mistress gave her a look that, with a slave, would have been the precursor of a series of hard slaps across the face.
"I thought you were going to let Me finish My story." The Mistress said.
"Oh, sorry," the reporter replied.
"As I was saying there were a number of ways I gained control. The sexual part was just one. There were others too that were equally interesting. For instance, I periodically loaned him to some of My Domina friends. A few days with them and he was more than glad to be back serving Me. This was just to let him know that it was I who called the shots, and not he. Once when he came back from, shall we say, a particularly grueling stint with a lesbian Domina friend of Mine, he wanted
to tell Me about how awful it was. That earned him an afternoon in the laundry on his knees, presoaking my panties in his mouth." The Mistress giggled at the recollection.
"After that he started to become a lot more compliant. As I've said, he was always Mine, but he just didn't realize early on how much and to what extent he was Mine. I employed other methods, too. Often I would withhold certain privileges from him.  I once went a whole week without whipping him. That really shook him up, especially as he hadn't had an orgasm for several weeks at that point."
Despite her promise, the reporter had to interrupt.  "I hope you'll bear with me, I know I promised not to ask any more questions, but I just have to ask this: You didn't whip him for a week and he was disappointed!?"
"Part of the appeal of him serving Me is the pain I inflict on his body. I am a sadist and he is a masochist; it's what we do. Of course, during this time, I had to whip some other boys, or I would have been equally frustrated."  The Mistress went on, "I use whipping as a reward system.  If he serves Me well, then he is assured of a whipping or two or three, depending on how I feel. If I am not well disposed toward him, then he doesn't get whipped. He merely gets banished to his cage."
"There are other forms of control I exercise over him.  Since coming to serve Me, he has lost over 28 lbs.  I regulate what he eats, when he eats and how much.   I'm very careful with this form of control, as I want My slave to be energetic so he can serve Me more and better. I also require him to work out two hours a day, and I must say, his body shape has improved tremendously. You might say that I'm an excellent personal trainer. It's just that I carry personal training to the ultimate degree."  The Mistress giggled coyly at this jest, while the reporter furiously scribbled.
"In addition to this, I tell him when he can go to sleep, when he can get up, when to laugh, when to cry, when to move and when to stand still. He's truly Mine. Any questions?"
"I hardly know where to start." the reporter stammered.  "Do you think it would be possible for me to interview your slave?"
"I see no reason why you shouldn't," The Mistress replied. She reached across the table and picked up a small bell, which She rang once.  Within moments, Her slave appeared from the back of the house. He entered the room with his eyes downcast and sank to his knees before The Mistress.
"Slave, please make Me another cappuccino," The Mistress said, and glancing at the reporter, She asked if she wanted another.
"Oh yes, please," the reporter stammered nervously, being in the presence of a kneeling, naked man.
The slave went back into the kitchen to prepare his Mistress's order.
"What's that strange scar he has on his chest?" the reporter asked.
"It's from his branding," the Mistress replied.
"Branding!?" the reporter grimaced.
"Yes. He requested it after he totally committed to being My property. He felt it would let the world know to Whom he belonged."
There was a long, not entirely comfortable silence between the two women, broken, at last, when the slave returned with the cappuccinos.
"Slave boy," The Mistress said, "this is Mistress Sybil.  She is writing a feature article on D&S for a women's magazine. She's going to ask you some questions.  I'd like you to reply fully and candidly."
"Yes, Mistress," the slave replied, carefully keeping his eyes downcast.
"Well, actually, I'm not a Mistress at all," the reporter began, "you can just call me Sybil."
"No, you may not," The Mistress quickly interjected. As an aside, She said to the reporter, "To My slave boy, all women are Mistresses, as he has been taught that women are naturally superior. Consequently, he is very respectful to any woman."
"Oh," was all the reporter was able to say. She nervously glanced at her notebook and began to question the slave.
"I'm interested in learning what you get out of this relationship," she began. "I understand what your Mistress gains by having you, but I just don't understand what you gain."
Keeping his eyes downcast, the slave replied, "I get fulfillment, Mistress Sybil.   Serving Mistress Sarah makes me feel like a whole being."
"And she completely controls you?"  Sybil asked.
"Completely," the slave replied.
"You asked to be branded?"  Sybil asked with just a hint of disbelief.
"I begged to be branded, Mistress." the slave replied.
"But didn't it hurt?"
"It hurt worse than anything that I have ever felt, Mistress," the slave replied,  "and it hurt for weeks afterward. I cherish that pain, and to this day count being branded by Mistress Sarah as one of the premier events of my life."
"I notice that you have some very angry red welts across your back and your thighs," the reporter said. "When did you get those?"
"Mistress whipped me two nights ago," the slave replied.
"Those are serious welts," Sybil stated squeamishly. "You must have suffered a lot during this whipping."
"Afterwards, I fell on my knees and kissed Mistress's feet in gratitude for giving these welts to me. It's a very important part of our relationship" the slave answered.
"And you would do anything for your Mistress?" the reporter asked. "Anything She asks, no matter what?"
"Yes, Mistress," the slave replied.
At this point The Mistress interjected. "I don't think that we have quite impressed upon you the nature of this relationship," She said, looking at Sybil. "Allow Me to give you a demonstration."  She turned to her slave and said, "Slave boy, I want you to stop breathing until I tell you to start again."
Instantly the slave stopped breathing.  There was a long, pregnant silence in the room, broken at last by Sybil taking a deep breath. The Mistress held eye contact with Sybil, which made her very uncomfortable.
"How long can he hold his breath?" Sybil asked.
"As long as I want him to," the Mistress replied.
The slave had begun to turn red and then purple as the cells of his body screamed for oxygen. Still he refrained from breathing.
"It's been over three minutes now," Sybil said. "Don't you think you should give him the 'ok' to breathe?"
The Mistress just glanced at Her slave, who obediently held his breath. He was beginning to sway ever so slightly as the lack of oxygen slowly affected his brain.
"He'll breathe when I let him, and not before," The Mistress replied.
Finally the slave fell into a dead faint and collapsed to the floor.
Sybil looked frantically at The Mistress, who did not move a muscle.  "Don't you think we should do 'mouth to mouth'? What if he dies?"
The Mistress merely smiled and said, "He won't die. You see, he held his breath for Me until he fainted.  When he fainted, he began breathing again, and he'll come around any moment."  The Mistress looked down at Her slave, who was beginning to stir.  "I couldn't show you through words just how much control I have over My slave, so I had to resort to this dramatic demonstration."

submitted by Mistress Sarah's personal, live slave boy

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