[Originally written on June 25th 2021]
At first it was just the tattoo.
A pretty big “at first”, admittedly. But you managed to convince me – nobody else would see it, you said – nobody but me, as a reminder of my sluttery; nobody but you, as a reminder of the whore that is your property. (Ok, and maybe one or two or several of your friends, but I’m fine with that, aren’t I? Of course I am.)
We talked for a while longer, discussing font, and size – the placement was never in doubt. And then one day, you gave me an address to head to, with just the words “It’s time.”.
The artist was a friend of yours – she was a little surprised to see the state I was in (naturally there was no need for me to be unlocked for this), but she rolled with it. I made sure to set up the live video feed so you could watch, and then I lay back, closed my eyes, breathed deeply. Some brief pain, and then… Done. Permanently marked, truly your slut in body as well as in word.
After that, though… It was like you had gotten a taste for it. Like the floodgates had been opened to a new world of slut customisation. The pierced nipples were next, naturally – nice large hoops, easy for you to casually pull on, or thread a leash through.
You planned outfits for me – sometimes asking my tastes and discussing options, others only letting me see the bill, with no idea what I was in for. Usually they ended up well enough – although the array of “I’m a slutty little puppy” shirts always garner a few double-takes when I’m out and about.
Another tattoo – “WHORE”, centred nicely on my lower back. Placed perfectly for any Mistress using their slave to see (and laugh at, presumably). And then another – your name, directly over my heart.
(This was then followed up by your brand on my slut ass – “to avoid getting too sappy”, you said.)