Day One, 3:36pm
I’m so nervous. I’m stood outside the shop. All I can do is look in and stare at the sign, knowing this is what I want but feeling too terrified to move from where I am.
Perhaps someone will come out and pull me in, that would help.
I have been waiting for this day for months now, and I cant even find the nerve to step through the door. Its only a shop, just a normal every day piercing shop.
I’ve had plenty of piercings before, what’s the difference now? Oh yes, I know. The fact that they are not piercings of my choice but ones that will be on display for everyone to see, I will be on display at parties and gatherings of whoever chooses to use me.
I make it inside without too much fuss, I knock over the pile of magazines in the waiting area and draw attention to myself from everyone who is stood behind the tills,
One seems to reconise me and steps forward to help me with the magazines. His eyes are alight as he looks into my face.
He looks at each piercing I have, almost seems to memorise them to his brain, and smiles at me.
He says he knows me and remembers my application more than anyone elses. Apparently I was the only one that stood out from the crowd.
He leads me to the back room, somewhere quieter where we can sit and chat, he says.
The back room is decorated in black silks, candles and gothic art work. Its beautiful, but this is no longer the every day parlor I thought it was.
He tells me now I am his, he is the one who is ultimately in charge of me and my body. He says the piercings he chooses will not be ones that I will be expecintg, and I will be at his beck and call to be pierced whenver he feels like it, and when there is an event I am required to be present at then he wants me to stay with him. He wants to take me mind, body and soul. He tells me that I am what he has always been looking for, a pretty submissive who likes to show off her alternative flair.
My heart flutters. Yes oh yes.
Day two, 10am
I arrive promptly at his door, he has his own studio in his house, and this is where I will spend most of my time now, there is a party he wishes to show me off at tomorrow night..
He has me strip immediately, I am not fazed that I have not known him long. It is not about the body, it is about the decoration of the body and we both know this.
I am shaking as I undress, I do not know what to expect, but I love this about him. He knows I will enjoy it so much more if I do not know what is happening.
I find him examining my body. He beings work with the piercings I already have.
First my bridge is taken out and replaced with a long spike, inches from my eyes, then my septum tunnel is stretched and a thick silver ring is placed through it. He says its easy to drag me around and finds this funny.
The pain is throbbing in my nose now, he stretched it so much you can see through it from the side on.
Next, he takes out my three lip studs, replacing them with thicker rings and lacing a thin chain through them. He says if he wants me to shut up for a long period of time then all he has to do is tie these ends off.
I find my venoms are being stretched and without even realizing he has pierced two more holes just off centre of my tongue. He laughs as I pale when the blood rushes out. He tells me they have been pierced with tunnels so that each time I open my mouth he can see right down to my throat.
I am informed that there is no need for the rest of my body for this event he wants to go to. They require my face, which is why al of it has been stretched and put on full display.
He seems satisfied, and as I stand before the mirror, I can only stare at the stretched piercings and new venoms. I am a creation of my master,
Day Three, 8:15pm
We are at the party. The music is pounding in my head and I am being led around with a chain through my septum. My lips have been pulled shut, there is no requirement for me to talk all night, but he lets me have a drink every few hours.
I wear a long PVC skirt, flat shoes and a long corset with a neck corset attached so that my body is as straight as an arrow. He does not ant people looking at my body this night, h wants them looking me right in the eyes.
I am not there to enjoy myself I am there to be a show for these people.
I am the centre attraction. I stand in a cage for the last hour before he takes me home so that I can be seen from all over the club.
I am so aware of myself and all I can feel is the metal against my face.
People walk by and gloved hands reach out to fondle my septum ring or to pull on my mouth chain to give their friends a laugh.
I feel my cheeks burn at this, but I know this is not the worst he will do to me, and the constant attention makes me shift and fidget so much he notices.
He know I am feeling ready for more, he knows I want to be on full display as this is what I am now, but he wants me to keep still, it is causing a distraction.
I am freed from the cage. He picks up the chain for my septum ring and I am led silently through the parting crowds.
He does not say a word, or let me say a word, until we are back at his house and back in his studio.
I am told that I did a good job, and that I must improve from now on. He will train me to become still like the furniture, still for people to touch and play with, he does not want me responding to their touches, he says it makes me look like a slut.
I am stung by this remark, but we do not dwell on it. He wants to begin work on the rest of me. His eyes are alight with fire as he works on me, he calls me his work of art. I am all he ever wanted.
Day four, 1:02pm
He spent al of last night talking to me, telling me and training me how to be better as a submissive and as a statue when I need to be.
I am exhausted form being up all night and aching from the corsets, but I am loving being in this position.
I lay out on the old doctor’s chair he has and watch as he first slips three bars through one nipple, and then three through the other. He then attaches a chain to my nipple rings and pulls it though, adding a tart piercing to my belly button so that the chain can feed through this.
It is left to dangle just next to my clit, annoying me and waking me up. I had forgotten that I was wet there. I had been so focused on my facial piercings I hadn’t realized how ready I was to be truly used.
He attaches the chain in my nose and lips to the ones through my nipples so that no matter what I do I can feel them pulling. I am in a state of constant awareness.
He spends all day on me, adding tattoos down my back and on my cheeks. I did not expect that, but I have no say. My body is not my own, it is for display.
I am taken to the shops, my first normal outing. I turn many heads in the street, and even make one child cry as he passes me. I feel very powerful and strong being led around by my master, I feel complete as he takes me to Sainsburys and buys simple foods.
He makes me wear the neck corset still but he has covered the rest of me in a loose cloak while my piercings heal up.
People are crossing the street to avoid us. He looks back at me and grins. It is the first time he has truly smiled at me, and I feel my heart swell with pride.
That night he shows me all the piercings he has. He shows me that he has most of his under his clothes, like he has a PA, his nipples, and surface piercings on his chest.
This gives him an idea, and begins work on my breasts, adding four silver studs along the top of each sa that we match. It is his way of showing me that I am something to him.
I am in agony. He took me to a new level. I now have stretched surface piercings up my arms, the tops of my legs, the under side of my breasts and the top of my back.
I cannot sleep as they rub. He told me not to bother him, so I am stood outside letting the air sooth me.
I love that I am covered like this for him, I feel I have a place in life and I make these changes to myself to show people that I am happy as I am, it was not forced on me, I had chosen a path to follow. But having a master as well has made me feel like I am the real me now.
I am stood in front of the mirror, looking at myself for the first time since I began this journey.
My eyes are wide, I do not reconise the creature before me, covered and unrecognizable to those she used to know.
He says he will give me wings, just under the piercings on my back, and then he will tattoo my hands if I please him well tomorrow.
I cannot wait.
Day five, 8:45pm
I am stood against the wall, handing out drinks to his friends. I am wearing a sheer top and hot pants to show off all of the piercings he has given me.
I wear the neck corset again, he says he likes the way I look when I am stretched out like that.
Hid friends cannot believe what they are seeing, and each comment is a new one, asking him what made him do it and why. All the questions you expect from people who don’t understand it.
He has made it so I cannot speak again, something I am getting very used to, I let him take complete control.
He is coming towards me, have I done something wrong? He tells me that I am to put on a show for the people so intrigued by me. He hands me a waist cincher and crotchless panties then sends me off to change.
He says that the cincher needs to be pulled in so tight that he can fit his hands around my waist without any effort. He wants my boobs high.
Consciously, I stand beside him when I am ready and he takes me in. he runs his hands over the heavy boned cincher and slides his hands along the crotch of the panties. I feel his hands glide over my newly pierced nipples and he smiles again.
He says I am perfect.
Two of his friends hold my arms high above my head, while another two hold my ankles far apart. The rest examine me. They say I will make a good object.
He is staring at me, looking thoughtful with a needle poised. I am used to that look, the look of him that tells me something on my body will have a sore ring through it before the night is done.
He kneels and I hold my breath. He pulls roughly on my pussy lips, showing them off to the crowd and then grabs the inner lips, pulling them down in the same way. He says how much better they look on display like that, and suddenly, I feel the pain slide through my inner lips and a new bit of metal touches my leg. He does this four more times up that side and then does the same on the other side. The rings clink together. He does not wait for my gasps but carries on and puts three thick rings though my outer lips.
He pulls the chain attached to my breasts and belly, pulls it taut and winds it through the new piercings, it pulls each time I walk but rubs hard against my clit.
He knows this.
His friends have fun playing with me that night, he looks rather amused as the pull on my chains, making me twist this way then that as they pull me.
He is enjoying watching me suffer. He is laughing as I try to walk with my legs wide apart, to avoid the rubbing of the piercings on my newly sensitive flesh but it is no good.
I stand next to him and I beg for any kind of release, whimpering and fidgeting as his friends get ready to leave.
They thank me for a good time and say they look forward to the next time, but I let him take the lead.
He turns to me and tells me that I have turned him on. He puts my hand on his crotch to prove this point. He wont let me do anything other than graze him.
He kneels down and fingers my rings, sliding his finger in between them, testing their weight and my reaction to them when he pulls on them.
He takes his time and I cannot help but wiggle from foot to foot. He knows all my buttons.
Day Six, midday
I find myself hanging upside down, on display again to a group of PVC and latex clad men and women, they are not dominants, they are just alternative and interested in examining what their friend has done with his new toy.
I love that I am my masters toy, it sends thrills through me each time I think about it.
He has chosen to keep me this way for the entire day, he says that he wants others to pierce me and have others explore me and graffiti me, and I know this thought terrifies me but I love it all the same.
Needles are tested on my skin as I dangle there, I can feel my naked flesh stretched and prodded.
I have been told not to look them in the eye, as an object, I do not have these rights. As an object, I am a simple play thing for those around me.
It has not been a long time, but I know this is my place in life. I love my master in the way that only a submissive can, in the way that those who are well trained and guided can.
He does use me sexually from time to time, but he is aroused when he pierces and tattoos me, and he says that I am his most beautiful creation.
What more could I ask for?
It is announced that there is an artist in the gathering, someone who wishes to turn me into his art work. He does not wish to own me, he simply wants to decorate me.
He has what looks like templates to press against my body and then paint into. He wants to use my piercings as the main focus, to make them stand out on my body at all times.
I am feeling very nervous, the good kind of nervous you get when you go shopping for new clothes or get a hair cut, but for me it comes in the form of art.
He begins at my feet. I am to have a tattoo-chain drawn onto my feet and then to encircle my ankle, so that it looks as though I am in permanent chains.
My master is pleased with this, he is smiling and rubbing his hands together gleefully.
At first, it does not hurt. It is almost relaxing when he begins the work on me. The tiny needle feels like a small pin prick, and as the needle works up my foot, I start to fidget.
He adds colour to the design. My master holds onto me to stop me from swinging, it cannot be easy for them to do this with me upside down.
The pain of the needle grows as it’s a constant pinching, it is a lot of tiny pinches all at once and this makes me want it to stop.
Of course it does not, and I close my eyes. A group has gathered around me to watch now, the design is growing up my leg, one by one, and the throbbing pain in the fresh tattoos are making me grit my teeth.
As my legs are worked on, a corset is put around my waist, enough to make me pull my stomach in but not enough to be uncomfortable.
I hear my master talking about me to the artist, telling him how I am to have my waist trained down to a mere 22 inches by the end of the week.
I have been mummified. My master and my designer have wrapped me in bandages to help my tattoos heal. He does not want it to get infected.
I now stand with two sleeves on my arms, my stomach and my legs, ankles and feet tattooed.
They ache now, but it is a satisfied, pleasant ache that helps me sleep.
I will not see the final results for a while, if at all, I am not sure what I am allowed in regard to that at the moment, but I do know that my master is planning something. It is making me nervous.
He mentioned the corsetry on purpose, he wanted to plant the little seed in my mind, the fear of how this would be possible in such a short space of time.
I do not let on yet, he likes to see the fear in me, but I am rather excited about the whole thing. To be corseted, to be trimmed to the perfect hour glass figure… Surely every submissive females dream?
Day Seven, 7am
I am woken at the ungodly hour of six thirty. It is still dark out, but I am pulled from my mattress on the floor at the end of my masters bed and I am shackled with cold heavy steel cuffs around my wrists and neck.
The weight forces me to slouch, and I am slapped across the cheek. It is forbidden for me to slouch and I should know this, he says.
I straighten up instantly, I do not like that kind of pain. It is the bad pain because I am not pleasing him.
I am led into the main room, a room I am normally forbidden from as this is where my master relaxes with his friends. It is not a place for an object.
He strips me of my nightdress and says I must keep my arms above my head, I must stay this way until I am told other wise.
He blindfolds me and then I hear nothing.
I wait. What could he be doing?
My heart is pounding loudly in the empty room. I assume it is empty, I cannot feel his body heat or his breath on my skin.
I lose track of time while I am stood there, my arms begin to throb and ache and bend at the elbow slightly, I have to make a conscious effort to keep them above my head, but they are oh so heavy.
My arms are burning at the elbow, I am trying so hard to keep them above me that I am straining them. My hands feel numb and my neck is aching from standing so straight with such a weight around my small neck.
I hear movement in the room now, I am relieved but I am numb, I am simply a thought.
I feel something encircle my waist, it is tight, boned and stiff. It forces my body to straighten up, to hold my breasts out in front of me and to force my belly completely flat.
He stand back and tell me that my ass looks large and inviting, that the pressure of the corset makes me part my legs just enough to see my hanging piercings. He likes this.
He stands behind me and tight laces me into the corset, I can feel it straightening my body and I feel the curve of it pressing tightly and snugly into my waist.
My arms are released at this point and I am told to fell the corset that, I am told, will now be what I wear all the time. It will never come off, but, he says, it will be reduced in size and my waist will be something to marvel at.
I am measured. I was not big to start with, but now I am four inches smaller than I was, which is 24 inches.
He has spent the last few hours simply tight lacing me into corsets and then reducing the size when he gets bored. I have been standing in the same position for three hours now. I have not been allowed to move.
I am at 22 inches.
I am wearing a steel boned black latex corset, nothing more.
He is running his hands along my new curves, but he is frowning.
He is not happy with my size.
I have been taken to all of his friends houses. He didn’t like my size, he wanted a second and third opinion, and they all have agreed that I should be tiny, that my waist should be so small that a woman’s hands should fit easily around and meet without strain.
My nerves, like the first day I met him, are building.
Day 8, midday
Today I have been left in a steel boned silk red corset. He has laced me in and now I am at 19 inches.
I feel fantastic, I am constantly aware of my body and its movements. I can hear my piercings as I move now and each time I pass a mirror, I see the art work he has created on me.
A new treat is in store, I am told. He has taken me to a body piercing shop, he has told me that I must stand in the window and I must not move until I am told to.
He is speaking to the owner of the shop.
I have lowered my eyes so I do not make eye contact with the people here, and I am to simply listen.
He is telling the shop owner all that he has done to me, and told him about my piercings and new tattoos. He finishes by telling him about my tight lacing, and his idea for me.
I am pale with a new fear as I hear what is to do with me, if the shop owner gives his permission.
My master will not allow anyone else to pierce me, not without prior arrangement and permission, anyway.
My heart is about to explode it is pounding so much!
A full length mirror is placed in front of me and behind me, so I can see myself at every angle.
I am told to strip off so I wear nothing but my piercings. I am still in the window, and now a small crowd has gathered.
I am instructed that my hands must rest by my sides and that my breathing must remain calm and deep. I am told it will help with the pain.
The shop owner is the only one here, other than my master. He wonders why I don’t talk and tried to make me look him in the eye. My master has to warm him not to do so countless times, he is unaware of what my slavery is.
He is here simply to be the photographer.
I am used to the feeling of being pierced, but not the sensation of being pierced so close to my spine and in quick succession.
He pushed me to my very limit, so close that there are stars blurring my vision and it is becoming hard to breathe. I can hear my heart pounding loud and slowly.
Pain etches my brow, and the pain in my back is now like tine pin pricks all at once. The constant tearing of tender flesh.
He has begun work on the other side of my back, I have a line of fresh piercings right down my left side. I see some have begun to bleed and I see the sight I have created.
The people stood at the windows are gasping as they see what is happening to me, a camera flash is going off constantly, but it is distant to me, I cannot focus on anything but my master and his touch.
I know he is creating more beauty upon me, but oh, it hurts.
I must hurt for him, I must suffer for him, because I know I will ultimately please him if I show him he can push me and I am still standing there for him.
My right side now matches my left. He is tending to my wounds. He lays me down on my front on the floor of the shop, and allows me to breathe and close my eyes.
He tells me I must rest now and let the healing begin. He says this piercing is my most important.
I know I am smiling. The pain is no longer now I feel a dull throbbing and a new awareness that I have been altered once again.
I am laid at my masters feet, massaging them and kissing them with appreciation.
It is how I show him how grateful I am for all he as done for me.
He has put a bandage on my back overnight. He says he will show me what he will be doing with it in the morning.
I have to wait, but I cannot.
Day 9, 8:15am
Already, he has me stood in his private room and he has stood in front of me to tell me what he is going to be doing with my new piercings. He knows that I heal well.
The bandage has been removed and he starts by testing the strength and pull of the piercings.
It stings but it does not hurt like I expected it to, and suddenly I welcome all the pain.
He takes the lacing from my corset and begins to thread it through my own back piercings, he lets me see by turning me to face his mirror. I am fascinated.
I watch as he threads the lace through each of the piercings, zigzagging them so they look like a real corset. He tightens the lace so that I am pulled upright and my boobs stick out invitingly.
He tells me to hold on to the lace while he rethreads them through the corset. It is a new one, solid rubber and steel boned down to 16 inches.
My body is forced to reshape itself but it does so well and the shape and change in me is amazing. I feel like a true modified slave.
He has taken his time to lace me in this time, he wants to get everything just right he says as I will not be let out of this corset for a month. He wants the shape and fit to be perfect on me.
I am now fitted into my new form.
He has used my piercings to lace me into this corset, I am forced to stand straight and walk to fit my new shape. I have to be a little careful, I am not allowed to sit down like a person. I must lower myself to my knees and then tuck my legs underneath me to have a chance at breathing.
He says after a month he will reduce my size again, so that each month I drop an inch until I am a mere 13 inches.
The corset is teaching me how to be a graceful slave and he is still stretching up my pussy piercings, he wants my lips to hang down so that they pull my lips down for everyone to see and so that I can feel them brushing against my inner thighs wherever I walk.
I will be nothing but a pin cushion and a trained submissive.
I am slave.
I am nothing but an object for my masters pleasure and amusement. If I did not have my master, I would be miserable. I do not want to be normal and I do not want to fit with society’s idea of beauty.
I am beauty modified and I am very proud to wear such piercings and tattoos, and I am my masters object. He dresses me and allows me speech, I must not look him in the eye and I must not move a muscle without his say so.
I live to please him and I love him as only a true slave can love their owners.
I know that I will be his for life now, that all we have been through has bonded us and united us in such a way, I do not want it to change.
I am constantly excited and nervous, and I am on a rollercoaster ride that can only get better.
This is not an ideal for everyone, I know, but I find this my ultimate fulfillment.
My dream has come true. I am simply slave.
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