Go Ahead, Judge Me for Owning My Slave

Ever wonder what it’s like to have complete control over someone? I’m not talking about some corporate boss barking orders or a parent laying down rules. I mean real, raw power over another human being, where they’ve handed you the reins to their body, their mind, their everything. I’m Tomas, by the way, and I’ve got a story that’ll either make you jealous or make you judge the hell outta me. Don’t care which, honestly. I’m just here to spill it.

See, I’ve got this dynamic with Kavya. She’s my... well, let’s call her my slave, because that’s what she wanted to be. Not in some historical, messed-up way, but in the sense that she craves being owned, directed, told what to do down to the tiniest detail. We’ve been at this for a couple years now, and it’s not just bedroom games. It’s a lifestyle. She wears a discreet little collar under her clothes most days, a reminder of who she belongs to. And me? I get off on the control, on knowing I can snap my fingers and she’s on her knees, no questions asked. Yeah, go ahead, raise an eyebrow. I know it’s not everyone’s thing.

This particular day, I had an idea that’d been brewing for weeks. I wanted to capture her submission, not just in my head but in something tangible. A private collection, you could say. Photos. Not the kind you’d show your buddies over beers, but the kind that’d stay locked in a safe, just for me to look at when the mood strikes. I told Kavya about it a few nights before, and her eyes got this hungry glint, even as her cheeks flushed. She was into it, no doubt, but nervous too. That mix of eagerness and shame? It’s like fuel to me.

So, here’s the setup. It was a Saturday afternoon, and we were in the bathroom of my place. Not glamorous, I know, but it’s got this big mirror that covers half the wall, and the lighting’s harsh in a way that hides nothing. Perfect for what I had in mind. I’d set up my camera on a tripod, an old DSLR I hadn’t touched in years but still worked fine. Kavya was standing there in just a thin robe, barefoot on the cold tile, waiting for my instructions. Her hair was down, a dark cascade over her shoulders, and she kept fidgeting with the sash of the robe like she didn’t know what to do with her hands.

There was one extra layer to this, though, that made it... spicier. My buddy Andre was over. Not in the bathroom with us, thank God, but in the living room, maybe twenty feet away, sprawled on my couch playing some video game with the volume cranked. He had no clue what was going down, and that was the point. Kavya and I had to keep our voices low, our words coded, because if he caught on, it’d be mortifying for her. And yeah, I’ll admit, the risk of him hearing something, or worse, walking in to ask for another beer, had my pulse hammering in a way that wasn’t just about the photos.

I leaned in close to Kavya, my voice a murmur. “You ready to show me how good you can be?”

She swallowed hard, her eyes darting toward the door even though it was shut. “Yes, sir,” she whispered, barely audible over the faint hum of the bathroom fan.

“Good girl. Drop the robe. Let’s start with something simple.” I stepped back, adjusting the camera angle, making sure the frame caught her from the waist up for now. She hesitated, just for a split second, then untied the sash and let the fabric slide off her shoulders. It pooled at her feet, and there she was, bare in front of me, her skin prickling with goosebumps under the fluorescent light. I could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her chest rose and fell a little too quick. She was exposed, vulnerable, and I knew part of her hated how much she loved that feeling.

“Hands behind your back,” I said, keeping my tone even, like I was asking her to pass the salt. “Look straight into the lens. I wanna see that pretty face when you’re trying not to squirm.”

She did as I asked, clasping her wrists behind her, her gaze locking onto the camera. I snapped a few shots, the shutter sound loud in the small space. Each click made her flinch just a little, like she was imagining someone else seeing these later. I knew she trusted me to keep them private, but that flicker of doubt in her eyes? It was everything.

“You’re doing great,” I told her, loud enough that if Andre was listening, it’d sound like I was just giving photography tips. “Now tilt your chin down a bit, yeah, just like that. Perfect.” But then I dropped my voice to a hiss only she could hear. “I can see how hard your nipples are, Kavya. You’re getting off on this, aren’t you? Being my little model.”

Her lips parted, a tiny gasp slipping out before she caught herself. She nodded, barely, her cheeks flaming red. I smirked, adjusting the zoom to get a tighter shot of her face, capturing that mix of embarrassment and want. I could feel my own body reacting, the heat building under my skin, but I kept my cool. This wasn’t about me yet. This was about pushing her, peeling back every layer of her composure until she was trembling with it.

“Turn around,” I said next, still in that casual, public tone. “I wanna get your profile. Keep those hands where they are.” She obeyed, pivoting slowly, giving me a view of her back, the curve of her spine, the way her muscles tensed as she held the position. I took a few more photos, then stepped closer, pretending to adjust her stance. My fingers brushed her lower back, just above her hips, and I felt her shiver under my touch. I leaned in, my breath hot against her ear. “You’re so fucking obedient right now. I could do anything to you, and you’d let me, wouldn’t you?”

“Tomas,” she breathed, her voice a desperate little plea, but I cut her off with a sharp look. She corrected herself instantly. “Sir. Yes, sir. I’d let you.”

I stepped back, grinning to myself as I snapped another shot. The shutter clicked over and over, and I knew each one was making her more aware of how exposed she was, how every inch of her was being documented for me to look at whenever I wanted. The power in that was dizzying. I owned this moment, owned her in it.

From the living room, I heard Andre yell something about a game over screen, followed by a loud curse. Kavya froze, her eyes wide, and I had to bite back a laugh. “Relax,” I muttered to her. “He’s not coming in here. But you gotta stay quiet for me, okay? Not a sound unless I tell you to make one.”

She nodded, her jaw tight, and I decided to up the ante. “Kneel,” I said, my voice still that fake-casual tone for anyone who might overhear. “I’m gonna get a different angle. Just stay still once you’re down there.”

Her knees hit the tile with a soft thud, and I saw her wince at the cold, hard surface. She kept her hands behind her back, her posture perfect, and I crouched down to get the shot, the camera lens inches from her face now. Her breath was shallow, her lips slightly parted, and I could see the effort it took for her to hold still, to not let out whatever she was feeling. I took my time, dragging it out, letting her feel the weight of my gaze through the lens.

“You look so goddamn good like this,” I whispered, too low for Andre to catch. “On your knees, waiting for me to tell you what’s next. You love being my toy, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” she murmured, her voice so faint I almost didn’t hear it. But I saw it in her eyes, the way they flickered with something raw and needy. I stood up, towering over her now, and adjusted myself through my jeans. No point hiding it—she knew what she was doing to me. I snapped a few more photos, focusing on the way her body curved in submission, the way her thighs pressed together like she was trying to hide how turned on she was.

“Spread your knees a little,” I told her, keeping that neutral tone. “Balance yourself better for the shot.” But as soon as she shifted, opening her legs just enough, I dropped my voice again. “That’s it. Show me everything. I want you to feel how bare you are right now, knowing I’m looking at every part of you.”

Her face burned, and I saw her fingers twitch behind her back, like she wanted to cover herself but didn’t dare. I took another photo, then set the camera down on the counter for a moment. I stepped closer, close enough that my boots were almost touching her knees, and I looked down at her. “You’re doing perfect,” I said, loud enough for plausible deniability. Then, quieter, “I’m gonna make this harder for you now. You’re gonna stay just like that, and you’re not gonna move until I say. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” she whispered, her voice trembling now. I could see the strain in her body, the way her thighs quivered from holding the position, the way her chest heaved with every breath. And I knew part of it was the humiliation, the knowledge that she was kneeling there, exposed, while my friend was just on the other side of a thin wall, oblivious to what was happening.

I picked up the camera again, but this time I didn’t take a photo right away. I just stood there, letting her feel the weight of the moment, letting her squirm under the silence. Then I said, casual as ever, “Lift your chin a bit. I wanna see your eyes.” But when she did, I added under my breath, “I bet you’re dripping right now, aren’t you? Don’t lie to me.”

She didn’t answer, but the way her breath caught told me everything. I smirked, snapping another shot, and then I heard footsteps from the living room. My heart skipped, and Kavya’s eyes went wide with panic. Andre’s voice called out, “Yo, Tomas, you got any more of those chips? I’m starving out here.”

I had to fight not to laugh at the sheer terror on her face. “Yeah, man, gimme a sec,” I yelled back, keeping my tone light. “Just finishing up in here.” Then I looked down at Kavya, my voice a hiss. “Don’t move. Not an inch. I’ll be right back.”

I left her there, kneeling on the cold tile, and stepped out into the hallway, closing the bathroom door behind me. My pulse was racing, not just from what we were doing but from the sheer risk of it all. I grabbed a bag of chips from the kitchen, tossed it to Andre, and made some excuse about needing to tweak the camera settings. He didn’t even look up from his game, just grunted a thanks, and I was back in the bathroom in under a minute.

Kavya was exactly where I’d left her, though her face was a mix of relief and frustration when she saw me. “Good girl,” I muttered, locking the door again. “You didn’t even flinch. I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said, her voice still shaky, and I could tell the interruption had only heightened everything for her. The fear of being caught, the waiting, the not knowing if I’d drag this out even longer.

I picked up the camera one last time, but I knew we were building to something more than just photos now. “Stay right there,” I told her, my public voice still in place. “I’m gonna get a couple more, then we’re done.” But as I framed the shot, I murmured, “You’ve earned a reward for being so good. You want that, don’t you?”

Her eyes flicked up to mine, desperate and pleading. “Yes, sir. Please.”

I set the camera aside, done with the pretense for now. I crouched down in front of her, my hand reaching out to grip her chin, forcing her to look at me. “Keep your voice down,” I warned, my thumb brushing over her lower lip. “Not a sound, remember? We’re not alone.”

She nodded, and I let my hand slide down, trailing over her throat, her collarbone, until I was cupping her breast, feeling the weight of it, the way her nipple hardened under my palm. Her breath stuttered, but she bit down on any noise, her eyes squeezing shut for a moment before opening again, locked on mine. I teased her like that for a while, slow and deliberate, watching her struggle to stay quiet, to keep her body still even as I could feel her trembling under my touch.

Then I moved lower, my fingers tracing down her stomach, past her navel, until I was between her thighs. She was soaked, just as I’d guessed, and the heat of her against my fingertips was enough to make my own control waver. I didn’t say anything, just watched her face as I explored her, slow at first, then with more pressure, more intent. Her lips pressed together tight, her whole body taut as she fought to stay silent, and I could see the effort it took, the way every muscle in her tensed with the need to let go but couldn’t.

“That’s it,” I whispered, so low it was barely sound. “Hold it together for me. Show me how much you can take.”

She was close, I could tell, her breathing ragged now, her hips twitching despite herself. But I didn’t let her get there, not yet. I pulled my hand back, leaving her gasping, her eyes wild with frustration. “Not yet,” I told her, standing up. “You don’t get that until I say so. Stand up. Slowly.”

She did, her legs shaky as she rose, and I stepped back, looking her over one last time. The photos were done, the camera forgotten on the counter, but the power dynamic was still thick in the air. I knew we’d revisit this later, when Andre was gone, when I could really take my time with her. For now, though, I handed her the robe, watching as she wrapped it around herself, her hands still trembling.

“You did good,” I told her, loud enough for it to sound like a wrap-up. “We got some great shots. I’ll edit them later.” Then, quieter, “I’m not done with you yet. You know that, right?”

“Yes, sir,” she mumbled, tying the sash tight, like it could hide what we’d just done.

And then, because life’s got a sense of humor, Andre’s voice cut through the moment again. “Yo, Tomas, you two done playing photographer in there? I’m about to order pizza if you’re cool with that.”

I couldn’t help it—I snorted, glancing at Kavya, who looked like she wanted to sink through the floor. “Yeah, man, we’re done. Pizza sounds good. Kavya’s just... recovering from her modeling debut.” I winked at her, and she shot me a glare that was half mortified, half amused, before ducking her head to hide a smile.

Guess even slaves get to roll their eyes at their master sometimes.