Flashbacks: Slave Learns to Stretch.

Though I hope to eventually blog very realtime (of the experiences and feelings I'm currently having) there are also moments from before the creation of this blog that were significant to my growth and evolution as a slave. I've written posts for some of those that struck me enough to be particularly memorable. These will always have "Flashback:" in the title, but will be a slice of pre-blog life. Why look, here's one now! Enjoy...

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Too often I confess I shy away from Master’s games. Especially in the beginning, when I knew I wanted this status but struggled to give up all my control. Master would tell me a game he wished to play, and I would panic and beg him to reconsider. Such was the first time he told me he wanted to turn down my intelligence.

Like turning down the volume on the radio. Make me dumb; brainless.

I panicked. The idea of being robbed of my chief weapon – my brains. All my life this was the thing I’d depended on to take care of myself, and I told him honestly that I didn’t want to let that go for even a moment. That I didn’t find the idea enticing, but really frightening.

He didn’t have to listen to me. By this moment I was his to manipulate as he wished, and we both knew this. But he was kind to me; probably more than I deserved. He let the idea go for a while.

Time passed, and I learned to love and trust Master more and more. He payed close attention, for one day he knew it was time to push me. He’d already taken the control of me, and gradually he turned me down…

I was not cognizant of the change at the time. But in my memory I remember waves of knowledge fading away with each command to turn me down.

I felt my head get lighter. I remember the moment where I was too stupid to know my phone number or address. I remember being so stupid that spelling was beyond me. And I remember that the less my brain contained the happier I became. I giggled. God help me, but I giggled.

When he’d reduced my mind to that of a brainless, bubbly idiot his own way with me changed. He became terribly condescending, a huge smile on his lips as he said things like “don’t worry about it, sweety. You’re far too stupid to be able to understand what’s happening, and that’s just the way I like you.” And he enjoyed my giggles in reply. And the visible wetness between my legs.

I spent quite a while in this brainless state. He asked questions to enjoy my pouty face when I could not answer them. Things like two plus two, or how to spell simple words, such as cat. He revelled in the image of me – normally a very smart, capable woman, having now been transformed for his pleasure into an airhead who giggled as he patted her head and pushed it down to his cock to happily suck. “After all,” he explained to my eager but empty face, “you don’t need brains to be my horny little cock-sucker, do you?”

I giggled absently, almost enthusiastically, at the idea of not needing smarts to do the only things that mattered. And I sucked him happily.

When Master turned me back up the memories from the experience crashed through me like a tsunami. And with each came a rush between my legs. Contrary to what I’d originally thought, the experience of having my intelligence erased, in preference of being a bouncy, mindless, desperate Barbie doll, was tremendously erotic and I fantasized about it for days afterward.

Once again, Master knew best. As he always does.