After my first experience at Oak Farm and meeting Mentor I had to make sure my body wasn’t seen as I was bitten and black and blue all over. My sister who had been staying “at her friends” finally made an appearance just before my father drove to her best friends to find her not there. Alison was quickly becoming the “rebel” of the house and my father stopped worrying about me. Mainly because the cause of his concern was now in Portsmouth 225 miles away. The fact that she was now skipping school didn’t help and once it was discovered she’d not been at her friend or her friend with us all hell broke loose and she got “grounded” for two months, so middle class.
As we shared a bedroom and often a bed it wasn’t long before Alison saw the welts on my body and her inquisitive nature kicked in. I left out massive chunks of what happened leaving it to her own imagination. The raised welts from the dressage crop had changed into thin but very clear bruises dark blue in colour and black where some had crossed over. Alison ran her finger gently up and down each of them asking me for more and more details which I was reluctant to give but slowly I did. There were 12 distinct welts on my buttocks and Alison had traced them all and it had the effect on me of making me groan softly under her micro soft touch. Slowly she moved me onto my side and then my back counting the bites as she did, still tracing the crop welts at the side of my body as she did, there were 39 altogether. It was “A pity because 39 is a very ugly number and 40 is such a round number.” With that she lowered her head down onto my tit and found a clear spot bit me hard and sucked giving me not only “love bite” but one with teeth welts. Then she straddled my face until her cunt was over my mouth and lowered herself and told me “Lick me out you slag” I was happy to oblige gone were the feeling that this was not right, long since gone.
I was aware Alison was moving on top of me her head going towards my cunt and I spread my legs expecting her to join me in a 69 she however; had other ideas and telling me to “Bend your knees” she drew up and started to bite the insides of my thighs biting and sucking she counted as she bit 41, 42, 43 and on if I stopped she bit harder and I licked her if she disapproved she bite me harder and tell me to be gentle once she reached 50 she stopped biting me and rubbed my clitoris until I came and she lowered herself onto my face to stop me being heard. Then she told me to lick her arse hole something else I was happy to do, I hardly realised it at the time but with hindsight, I was becoming subservient to my younger sister.
I didn’t hear from him for two weeks and by the time I did most but not all of my welts had gone when he rang he didn’t have much time but he said he would write to me with “instructions” until I told him my nosey mother would open my mail. He asked me if my welts had faded and I said they hadn’t all and he said he was pleased with me and so proud of me. Then he told me to go to the main Post Office and he’d send me instructions to me via there, then his money ran out and the pips went. The next day I went and there was nothing nor the day after that, on the third day there was something postmarked Belfast. My intrusions were simple straight after college on Friday I was to get the 18.10 train from Leicester to Stafford I was to change on the train into my white dress and shoes nothing else and to remove all makeup and wear no scent or perfume I also had to leave everything behind in a station locker. I was to be stood without the baggage of any kind just shoes and the dress nothing else outside Stafford station at 19.30 and I was to do as I was told when I was told and to make him proud of me, as always the choice was mine, he told me he loved.
Just in case I missed the train I once again bunked off the last tutorial at college there was no real need to but my nerves got the better of me. I knew that train well as it went through and stopped at my home town and I also knew there would be no toilets on it to change so I went to the ladies in Piccadilly station and changed putting all my clothes, college work, and handbag into a sports bag I had borrowed from my bother. Once through my own station I reached for the bag took out my makeup bag and used the wipes to remove all my makeup from my face, looking in my mirror I didn’t like it and my nerves started to jangle. At Stafford station, I looked around for the luggage lockers and when I found them I had to unpack my bag to find the money for the payment. As I bent over my bag I realised the people sat behind on the seating bench would have a good few up my dress and stood up quickly. I found my purse took out the money I needed put the purse and everything else back in the bag and locked it away. I turned around to see two schoolboys grinning at me, I blushed.
Waiting outside Stafford station as instructed at 7.30 pm I became aware that I looked like a fish out of water most other people were dressed in autumn even winter clothes and coats and there I was in a white summer button through dress with flat summer shoes. It was getting cold and it was soon dark and colder still 8 PM came and went 8.30 then 9 and I was in a panic 9.30 and my mind was all over the place what was happening who was picking me up had they forgotten me? Then I tried to remember what I was told before the last time, speak when I am spoken to, eyes on the floor, say Yes Sir and No Sir and Thank you, Sir, had I forgotten anything would I be able to remember? I did remember one more thing if they put their hand between my legs I had to open them, stand legs apart hands on my head. Should I do that now, was that what was expected of me now?
At 10 pm I’d been stood there in the same spot for two and a half hour and I was cold and close to tears and ready to go home when a dirty old Land Rover drove up and the old woman who was driving me barked at me “Get in the back” I went around to the back and pulled down the handle and got in once more exposing my naked arse to the world. Mentor was waiting when we arrived back at the farm I quickly put my eyes down to the floor. He laughed and told me that I hadn’t been trigged so it was OK to look at him. I kept my eyes down he waved over my driver “Susan this is my wife Jenny her slave name is Cow, Jenny this is Susan her slave name is Slag and she is well named.” The woman didn’t speak. I hadn’t seen her on my last visit but she had been there and it was her who handed him the crop he’d beaten me with. Jenny was small and wore her hair very, very short later I found out she had her head shaved as it suited her Master.
We ate in the kitchen of the farm and he told me that he’s discussed my training with my owner and had come up with a plan to make me a better slave. I sat and ate in silence as Jenny brought and took away the plates I would after we’d eaten be triggered he had a few guests coming and I would service them this weekend then on Sunday I’d be punished how hard would depend on how well I had learned that weekend. Sunday lunchtime I’d be free to go. I didn’t like the sound of being punished and I told him so, he smiled back and told me “Then learn quickly” and I promised myself I would.
He went off and did something and Jenny came back and sat down and asked me how old I was and how I came to be there and I told her she was quite nice and she gave me some advice which I have never forgotten. “If you are going to be used for sex then just take the sex and concentrate on the cock inside you and close your mind to what is attached to it feel it going in and out and enjoy the feeling forget who or what it belongs to. It may be some ugly fat old bastard but it’s the cock inside you that is giving you the pleasure not him. If you are to be punished and you will be, close your mind to it easier said than done but the pain will end and it won’t kill you and it soon ends remember that and you will be OK.” I took it all in as I did other conversations with her although they were very few and far between. Mentor came back and sent Cow away he told me that one he triggered me I would stay triggered until I was told to dress after my punishment Sunday he told me to stand and said “Tell me what you are” to which I responded “I am a slag Sir” I was Slag Susan.
That weekend I was servicing a Dom/Domme couple from Bristol both of them were obese and she could hardly walk but they knew how to hurt and they both loved to do it. I was punished on Sunday this time for not showing the correct amount of respect to the Domme when I hesitated in licking her anus which had been dirty and smelt. As before I was tied naked over the cable reel and Mentor used the same crop handed to him by the naked Cow and once again the punishment was doubled because I forgot to say ‘Thank you Sir” at the end.
The following weekend I arrived at the same time dressed in the same white dress, stood in the same place in front of the station but this time I was picked up by a stranger who triggered me straight away with “Tell me what you are” and automatically I responded “I am a slag Sir” the words came so freely I was shocked with myself. This time I was told to get in the front and get naked and was driven through the streets of Stafford stark naked being told to sit up straight he reached down to my crotch and my legs opened, he groped me and called me a “Wet slut” but it didn’t stop him fingering me all the way to the farm. My third visit I serviced all the original 12 men including Mentor as well as another 15 who I’d not seen before making 27 altogether this time. I was lucky I was told as one had a massive cock and he did hugely and the biggest I have seen up to that stage anyway. The downside of the massive cock which was attached to a 62-year-old man who I forgot to thank so relieved to have him stop pounding my poor little arse hole.
The next day I was taken at 6 am to the barn and shown a small stable and chained by my waist and remained there until Sunday afternoon. I had a straw bed and a trough of water to drink from and 15-20 visitors who I “serviced’ throughout the day bringing a new meaning to “yank my chain.” The main thing that I remember was the hunger because I didn’t get anything to eat from arriving there Friday night to leaving Sunday after lunch the only thing that passed down my throat was water and cum. I was of course punished for various things including looking up at a Dom or forgetting to thank somebody for this time I had learned to count and to thank Mentor at the end. I’d also learned that no matter what, I would always be punished and all I could do was to limit the pain by learning what was expected of me.
I would travel to Oak Farm every weekend for 15 weeks straight and this would continue for years afterward. My parents were baffled by this sudden interest in staying with a college friend who lived on a farm and told me they’d like to meet her which was awkward. However; as I wasn’t the troublesome one in the house anymore that post being taken by Alison they didn’t push it, as they had other things to worry about.
I was in the middle of my exams once more and studying at home on Wednesday and I was all alone and enjoying it when there was a knock on the door. I went to answer it and there was Alison together with a rather stony-faced Police Woman. My little sister was once again playing truant from school and was seen roaming around close to a building site and taken to school and been duly suspended. Fearing she would once again make her way to the building site or hang around the town centre the policewoman who’d taken her to school as asked to bring her home. I thanked her and she left telling Alison “I hope your parents punished you for this, young lady!” I remember thinking to myself “Oh god don’t mention that word.” There was something different with Alison I couldn’t put my finger on what it was but she’d changed and I don’t mean she had become a woman but whatever it was she wasn’t happy anymore. I tried to ask her what was the matter just to be told to “Shut up you nosey cow.” This wasn’t like my sister so something or somebody had upset her no doubt she'd tell me sometime or another.
I got the call on the Monday his “tour” was over and after 16 weeks away he’d be back on Friday it was a mixture of sheer joy I’d be with him soon and relief that he was OK. That would be a feeling I would be very familiar over the coming years. He arrived at my parents’ house to find me in the middle of a huge argument caused by my mother opening my mail yet again. I was angry and screaming at her and let her know my father was angry and shouting at me because I was yelling at my mother. He arrived in the middle of it and he was let into the house by my youngest brother. He tried to calm things down only to be told by my father “This is my house and people who live in it do so under my rules and if you don’t like it you can get out before I throw you out.” Not a very good idea for an out of condition middle-aged man to threaten a Royal Marine Commando most of all one who not only didn’t like him or even respect him a fact that was pointed out to him along with the threat that “If you ever lay a finger on me I will break your fucking arms both of them you stupid stuck up silly little man.” However; he remained calm and told me to be calm be quiet and get my coat and said it would be best for everybody if he took me out of the house.
That day was one of the days you never forget it started off badly and ended badly as well but not for me because before we’d even left the end of the road he turned to me and told me “Well seeing as your father tells you in his house his rules, we better get you out of there. Maybe we should get married let's go sort it out.” That is exactly what we did, first, we went various estate agents got some leaflets on various small terraced houses and went to see some of them. We also went to the register office to see about it but he had to get permission to get married first and seeing as he wasn’t going back for six weeks we’d have to wait.
We went back at about 7.30 after telling his mother who was over the moon for us. As for my parents, well a lot less pleased to say the least. In fact, I thought my father was going to have a stoke and went straight for his whiskey bottle, thinking the better of punching my future husband. Not that there was a lot he could have done about it as I pointed out he made the rules, I didn’t like them so I was leaving as I was legally an adult there was nothing he could do about it, his rules not mine. I also told my nosey mother that I had arranged for all my mail to be redirected (his idea) and if she wanted to know why she should look in the mirror. Adding that this was their fault and her behavior and his attitude were appalling and with that, I left and moved in with his mother.
The rest of his leave was taken up house hunting and we bought a little terraced house with a little garden and impressed the estate agent by him we’d be paying cash. The look on my fathers’ face after he’s told us we’d never get a mortgage only to be told we’d paid cash as we would for all the furniture and having the place modernised before we moved in. It was pointed out to my father that he’s worked since he was 15 years old sometimes doing two jobs and had saved 95% of his money and that he earned a good living in the Marines and stood a good chance of getting more stripes and more pay.
Alison was overjoyed for us seeing as she was having a hard time at school being classed as “easy” and to make matters worse she gave a boy in the year above her a blow job on the school bus as a dare and now every kid at the school knew about it. Her DJ/bricklayer boyfriend was using her as a “fuck toy” as he liked to put it. He fucked her so often in the back of his van she had cement impregnated into all her school Uniforms. It finally dawned on her it wasn’t the great love affair she thought it was when he started to get her to give blow jobs to his mates in their lunch hour in a well-known pub used by the building trade as well as the landlord.
The first decent conversation my father ever had with my future husband was about Alison and how worried he was about her and my mother telling him that Alison was so unhappy. I’d already told him about Alison and us playing as I put it together. He genuinely liked her and after talking to her he told them both (at separate times) he’d have a word with the boyfriend. I have no idea what happened but the DJ/Bricklayer and a pub landlord both spent three weeks in the ICU and three months in the local general hospital and Alison never him again as far as I am aware the name calling at her school also stopped around the same time her main torturer being an older girl having fallen off a bridge into the canal one night when silent all of a sudden. I did see a change in my little sister she was a little withdrawn than she had been before and became quite the bookworm for a space of time, very small space of time. However; she also went from being known as “easy” to being the future sister-in-law of somebody who ended a lot of fights.
In those six weeks, there was no mention of the farm or being his slave and I didn’t worry about it all I knew I was getting married and in what used to be my local Church. At first, it was refused as neither of us lived in the Parish or went to church anywhere, it was pointed out I’d not been to church since he didn’t make me Rose Queen some years ago. The old Vicar who had been blocking us changed his mind when reminded by my intended that in fact having sex with an underage “Rose Queen” could always come back and bite him in the rear. My father once he realised I was really getting married if he liked it or not did what he always said he’d do and pay for my wedding which wasn’t planned for another three months.
On the last weekend we were together I was told to meet him outside the Town Hall and to wait for him. I was stood there at the time I was requested and strangely for him, he wasn’t there. A couple walked past and then a young guy on a bike and I was watching him do some impressive tricks when I became aware that a guy was standing next to me. I turned to see who it was and I didn’t recognise him at all he smiled at me and said “You are Susan aren’t you?” and he smiled at me once again. “Yes, I was,” I told him and he came back with “That’s good Susan, now tell me what you are, tell me what you are?” I was shocked and I looked at him like a scared rabbit but I told him “I am a slag Sir” with that he told me to come with him and I followed him.
At first, he took me to the memorial garden at the back of the Town Hall which wasn’t overlooked and was deserted at that time of night. He sat on a park bench, he wasn’t an old man not like those from the Farm, and I’d say he was mid-thirties not handsome but not ugly. He told me to stand in front of him which I did and then to lift my dress. Standing with my feet as wide as my shoulders apart I reached down and lifted the hem of my dress up to my waist. My cunt was on his eye line and he reached out and slid his finger into me and smiled as he found out I was wet. “Turn around and display yourself” and I turned around bend forward lifted my dress off my rear and with my feet as far apart as I could spread my cheeks for him. He touched my cunt and then my arse pushing the first one then a second into it asking me “What is this hole called Slag?” he asked. “My arse hole Sir” was my answer trained into me by Mentor and his punishments. “Tell me Slag what is it used for?” and I answered him “For fucking Sir” and with that he swung me around bent me over the bench, spat onto my arse hole and fucked me hard ordering me to “Speak” and I did “Fuck me please sir, fuck me please sir, fuck my arse hole, fuck me I am a slag sir, fuck me I am a slag sir” over and over.
I have no idea who this man was nor if I would see him again ( I did) but after he’d emptied himself into me and made me clean his cock with my mouth he told me to walk back to the front of the Town Hall where my fiancé was now waiting for me. The Dom turned to me and said “Wait Slag” and they talked about me. “She is well trained I’m impressed,” the man said “Great body tight arse as well if I was you I’d keep her tight there and maybe expand the cunt, leave that up to you. Shorter skirts I think this is just too long and stockings as well that would be a lot better. I don’t like the dress you can’t get at her tits cunt, arse and tits should always be available. By the way, you need to punish her she didn’t thank me for fucking her.” With that, he left. My husband-to-be turned to me and told me “I will pass your punishment over to Mentor he will deal with you I am sure.” I felt ashamed that I had disappointed him.
Short skirts weren’t in fashion at the time and I ended up buying older children’s clothes I even bought some skirts from Oxfam much to my sisters’ horror. As for stocking only OAP’s wore them at the time you just couldn’t walk into Marks & Spencer and buy them tights just ruled as they say. I managed to find a Department Store close to the college that sold them and I forgot all about buying a suspender belt until the blue-rinsed shop assistant asked me if I need one to keep them up. The stockings were black and the suspender belt white and my face was bright red as I paid and left the store.
The next few weeks were a mixture of college getting the new house decorated and furnished which wasn’t easy with half my relatives trying to give me furniture I didn’t want. At the same time, I also had a wedding to organise as he’d been given permission to marry straight away. I didn’t see him for six weeks and I wasn’t instructed to go to the farm at that time. We’d just taken possession of the house when he got leave and decided to “christen” the empty house by fucking me in every room in it furniture or not. In the week he had left for we managed to get a lot done and we needed to because we only had a further six weeks before the big day. Alison and Susan were both “Bridesmaids” and one of his friends in the Marines was asked to be the “Best man” I’d never met him before he was a huge man of 6’6” tall with hands like shovels but one of the nicest calmest people you could ever meet, his name was Peter Ogden otherwise known as Stan. It was Stan who reminded the Groom he’d better buy his bride an engagement ring which he did.
I saw my fiancé just a week before the wedding which he’d left 100% to me too organise. I’d also arranged everything else from the ground up inside and outside of the house and I am pleased to be able to say I doubt anybody could have done a better job. I even planned a “Hen party” for the Thursday and told him my older brothers would join him on his “Stag do” on the same night, which was a coach trip to well-known strip club in Leicester, they both returned home very much worse for wear.
The night before the Wedding he took me to a nearby Motel not far from a junction of the M6 motorway. I waited in the car as he went to ask a question at the reception and when he came back we drove to a room at the far end of the car park. Turning to me he “Tell me what you are” and I answered him “I am a slag, Sir.” Once again I had been triggered and once again I began to shake with nerves. I was told to take off my dress and go to the door of room 62 knocked on the door and wait. I wanted to say no I really did want to say no but I did what I was told and naked I walked across the car park and knocked on the door just about managing to hold onto my bladder as I did so.
The knock was answered by the Mentor who told me to “get in here Slag” inside were between 12-15 men and as I looked down at my feet I heard the usual comments, “Young slag isn’t she, nice arse, she takes it up the arse, she swallow, does she do water sports, she do scat?” The rules were the same as Mentor always set, bareback if you want and often as you can get it up all holes if you want her to swallow hold her head or hair but as I was being married the next day no slapping apart from my arse. It was 3 am when the last one had finished fucking me and left. Before I was allowed to go I was informed I was to be punished and tied face down on the bed and gagged. Mentor gave me 20 strokes of the cane all on my buttocks, I couldn’t move, scream or thank him because of the gag but as soon as it was removed I thanked him through bouts of almost hysterical sobbing and fighting for breath. I was helped back to the car and I needed to be helped so bad was the pain. On the way to my last night at my parents’ house Mentor told me how proud of me he was and that he knew I’d make a good slave for my owner and all I could say was “Thank you, Sir.”
The next day I walked to the altar on my father’s arm wearing no knickers or bra freshly shaved off all pubic hair, twenty deep long bruises on my buttocks and in a great deal of pain, it was a sensation I was learning to live with maybe even get used to. Still, when we took our vows in the Church that day, my disapproving father stood close and half the congregation believing I was pregnant because it had all happened so quickly, but I could not have been any happier.
We had our one-night “honeymoon” in a posh hotel close to us in the county side. I was very tired and as we lay in bed we talked about the day and who said what to whom. Then he told me after I’d mentioned our bridesmaids and how lovely they both looked “Yes they did look nice I think I am going to start fucking them both, you can make it happen with Susan, leave Alison to me.” I was shocked this was our wedding night but I didn’t know what to say all I could manage was “Yes Sir.” He took me in his arms and told me “Slag now we are married you will call me Master from now on, me and only me not Sir but Master, do you understand?” I did and I answered for the first time “Yes Master” and he turned me onto my stomach lay on my back and fucked my arse hole, I reached behind and spread my arse cheeks apart for him and begged, “Fuck me, Master, fuck me Master I am a slag Master.” It felt awkward to be calling him Master but at the same time, it felt right. He told me that night “From now on Slag you don’t have the right to use the word no to me or anybody else that triggers you. Remember you will always be safe at all times that’s my job but the word no isn’t to be used, do you understand?” "Yes, Master" I understood. The reality was I’d met and married this man all within six months with hindsight was it a mistake? Who knows.
To be continued..