The Pain and Pleasure Journals

The Pain and Pleasure Journals

By Estaban Bacca

(All rights reserved. Copyright 2004 by Estaban Bacca)

Prologue

My name is of no importance to these journals. My history is that of almost any young woman of my generation. There is nothing startling or unusual in it indicating a predilection for the dark side. My place of birth, my childhood, my time at the university, these are all totally immaterial. This is not a memoir or a biography.

If you continue to read, you will have to accept the experiences I was forced to record at face value. I give no explanations or justification for what my life has become. My journals relate what was done to me over ten weeks of my training as a slave to Sir, my master. I was instructed to keep a hand written record of my training and to include the feelings and emotions that my ordeals aroused in me. I hated writing about what I was enduring at first but as the weeks passed my time with pen and paper became a solace to me.

Recently, I decided to publish my journals. I am not a writer and when I set down the accounts of my ordeals, I often wrote in a form one might describe as 'streams of consciousness'. At other times I employed personal shorthand. In order that my experiences and feelings be presented in a more readable manner, I sent my journal to the author to be presented in whatever form he chose with the proviso that both I and Sir remain anonymous.

All too soon after my relationship with Sir began, I was pierced and marked. My nipples were adorned with rings. My labial lips followed and also sported Sir's jewelry. I came to barely remember the embarrassment of the piercings. They became so much a part of me that I scarcely noticed them unless they were inadvertently stimulating me or being incorporated by Sir into my pain or pleasure. On the surface and to all appearances, I was my Master's true slave. All was not as it seemed though.

During this early time with Sir, before the training sessions began, there were instances of confusion. Moments of anger and doubt. I often wondered if my nature was truly submissive or if I was merely playing at something beyond my understanding. Did my ultimate pleasure lie in totally pleasing another? At times, I found myself rebelling against the subjugation of my individuality and uncomfortable with the feeling of being absorbed by a stronger will. Needless to say, these displays of willfulness displeased my Master. I was unhappy as well. It was a situation that demanded resolution. I was told that I must either prove to myself and to my Master that I truly belonged to him or that I must leave. I was asked to give myself body and soul into the hands of professional Masters for the full duration of their course. I would have to present myself to them twice a week for individual training.

What had once been a working farm on the outskirts of town had been converted into a school for slaves. By committing myself wholeheartedly to their program it was assured that I would come face to face with my inner self once and for all. It was my strong desire for an end to the uncertainty that had finally convinced me to pledge my obedience to the program.

And what of my Master you may be asking yourselves? He shall remain as vague and shadowy to you as he is real and all powerful to me. How he found me and how he bound me to his service are matters that shall remain private. It may seem incongruous that I so jealously guard these small details of my life, while I lay bare my soul in the pages ahead. The explanation lies in precisely that fact though. This is not the story of me; it is the story of my soul. It no longer seems strange to me that agony and ecstasy are two sides of the same coin. Every morning since I committed myself to the Masters' course, that coin has spun through the air for me and I learned to live by the face it showed.