BDSM Library - A Descent Into Slavery

A Descent Into Slavery

Provided By: BDSM Library
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Synopsis: The tale of how I went from being a normal member of society, into nothing more than a slave for anyone
I’ve been aroused by the idea of wearing panties for a good few years now, and it was my first fetish I can remember (although it’s sparked plenty of others along the way); it started when I was fifteen

I’ve been aroused by the idea of wearing panties for a good few years now, and it was my first fetish I can remember (although it’s sparked plenty of others along the way); it started when I was fifteen. My mom and my sister had gone to the mall together, and my mom had asked me to get my sister’s laundry from her room and start the washing. I was carrying her basket when a pair of her panties fell out of the pile, and on an impulse, I took them. She didn’t notice they were gone, and I started wearing them when I was alone in the house and masturbating. It grew from there - I loved the feel of the lace and the satin against my cock and ass, so I took one of her thongs next time. Before I knew it, I had a big collection, stuffed under my bed, of panties, thongs, g-strings, a couple of bras as well, and even one of her miniskirts. I’m quite slim, so I could fit into it fairly easily, but what amazed me was that she didn’t notice they were going missing (or if she did, she didn’t care).

 

I was sixteen when she found them. My mom had asked her to get something from my room, I didn’t hear her coming up the stairs and she walked in to find me wearing her skirt, bra and silk thong; for the longest moment, she just stood there, in shock, and I started begging her not to say anything to my parents about it - they’re quite conservative, and they’d probably go crazy if they ever found out.

 

My sister was calculating about it - being older than me, she was already sexually active, and apparently was in touch with her dominant side as well. She agreed not to tell anyone about it as long as I obeyed her, unconditionally. I didn’t really have much of a choice at first, but the idea intrigued me; she is a very sexy woman, and were she not my sister, I would probably already have at least made a pass at her. Within a matter of days, she had the perfect opportunity - our parents were going to be out of town for a week, since we were in the school holidays, and I spent most of that week at her beck and call. On one day, she forced me to wear one of her pink nightdresses with a matching bra and thong set, and I spent the entire day dressed like that.

 

Up until then, my sexual experience was restricted solely to masturbation, but my sister improved all of that; like I say, she was already sexually active, and had no qualms about giving me blowjobs that were absolutely mindblowing. It didn’t take long before sexual release and wearing feminine clothing were hand-in-hand with one another - any time I so much as thought about wearing her panties, my cock would inevitably rise to attention. It caused me a lot of problems at times, like when I walk past a couple of girls sitting down and I glance down their pants; one time, a girl was wearing a pair of gold-coloured panties, and I got the intense craving to wear them for myself.

 

It was this that turned my relationship with my sister from humiliation into a full-blown d/s one. I knew where to get them from - they were in the Victoria’s Secret catalogue - but I couldn’t go in there myself, so I asked her to do it. She saw the opportunity and from then on, I was her slave. Things started off slowly from there; that first night she came home with the bag, I had to wear the gold panties until the following night, and it caused a lot of problems with our parents being home and everything. I had one really close shave when I forgot to lock the bathroom door; it opened as I was stepping out of my pants and I didn’t have time to pull them up. Thankfully, it was just her checking up on me, but that night, jacking off, it was that moment that made me cum harder than ever.

 

The late-night jacking off sessions were one thing I’d kept secret from my sister, as I didn’t want her interfering with them; if I didn’t jack off once every night, I would be crazy the next morning - once, I even went as far as jacking off in a school bathroom because I was so horny. But try as I did, I couldn’t keep it secret for long, and the night after she’d forced me to parade up and down in our living room, wearing a pink G-string and a pair of her four-inch heels, she caught me in the act. She was furious.

 

Before I continue, I should explain something - our garage is separate from our house, as a lot of houses are, and there’s a path between our back door and the garage door that’s completely out in the open. In the day, you can stand outside the house opposite us and see all the way through into our garden, but I digress. Since our parents were sound asleep, my sister knew we wouldn’t be disturbed; when she came back into my room, she had one of her chokers, the one she wore with her prom dress the year before, and she told me - no, ordered me, to put it on. I did, but it was with shaking hands - I wasn’t quite sure what she was capable of, but it wasn’t going to end well for me.

 

My suspicions were proved right when she produced a dog leash from behind her back; clipping it to the choker, she led me to the garage door. It took her a few moments to unlock it, during which I was kneeling on the hard ground, bare-ass naked, then she shoved me inside and locked the door again. I couldn’t figure out what the hell she was doing, so I pressed my face against the glass and called out her name. I had no luck, of course, as the garage was effectively sound-proofed thanks to the thick walls and the distance from the house. Thankfully, she wasn’t planning to leave me there for the night; all she was doing was getting some things.

 

She started out calmly enough, pushing me face-first into the corner and putting her things on the workbench. I could have reacted then, made a break for it, but I simply didn’t want to. Part of me knew I was in for a lot of pain, but the other part of me both knew it and welcomed it, and in the end, that was the bigger part.

 

‘Turn around, slave boy.’

 

Meekly, with my head bowed and my hands instinctively cupping my cock and balls, I obeyed. There, on the floor in front of me, was a bar stool, one of those we had in our kitchen.

 

‘Bend over the stool.’

 

Still looking down, I shuffled over to the stool. It was at least three feet high, and I doubted whether I could bend over it properly. My feet were just dangling off the ground when I put my hands on the ground, so I put my feet down and grabbed hold of the chair legs.

 

I had a feeling I was going to need them.

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