Chapter 2

“Welcome Home,” a man who introduced himself as Eddie Davidson appeared as we arrived. He was clearly the property manager. He had some papers my husband needed to sign and some for me as well. He was wearing a Malibu shirt and some shorts. He looked very relaxed and well-tanned.

Mr. Davidson offered to shake my hand. I wasn’t sure if it was a test or something. I thought maybe I would need to bow to him. He also shook the boy’s hands, but he didn’t offer to shake the girl’s hands. I thought that was odd. He asked us to come inside and take a look around before signing the papers.

All of the appliances were brand new. The fridge, the stove, there was even an island in the kitchen to prepare food. If a house had a “new car smell,” this one had it. We were all pretty pleased at how the air conditioner was kicking in because it was incredibly hot outside.

“What do you think of these appliances?” Pat asked the family as we all stood in awe at how much comfort was packed into such a small building.

“It’s not like anyone, but Mom is going to use them,” Casey replied sourly – but even she was a little impressed with how new they were. The ones we had in our old house were old when my husband bought the house. The laundry machine even had a PHONE APP. I wasn’t sure what you do with a laundry machine and a phone app, but I was excited. I was also not going to be wearing a lot of clothes, so I wouldn’t get to feel the difference.

In fact, Pat turned to me and told me this was the first and last time I would be walking into the house with any clothes on at all. “Are you ready to strip?”

I was frequently naked at BDSM conventions and Fantasy Fest down in the Florida Keys. I was naked all the time in the basement of our home. I don’t know why, but it felt different around my family and Eddie. I felt strangely put upon in a humiliating way. There was a sobering nature to the well-lit living room. I think it was such a mundane location that it felt out of place to be here collared and naked. I wasn’t sure if I felt embarrassed for my kids or myself, but it didn’t feel right to strip in the living room.

“Should I go into the bedroom to remove my clothes, Master?” I asked nervously – almost stalling. I knew his answer would be that right here was fine. One of the changes to our relationship that may seem odd is that he decided that the bedroom belonged only to him. It would be a privilege for me to be invited in. I was all for the idea – it was fantastic and exciting not to have a “place” for my property because I was now HIS property.

I don’t know why I even asked permission to change, though. My daughters had seen me change, and years ago, they saw me come home from a gang bang covered in semen and with body writing. It wasn’t by intention. I was trying to be sneaky and get in the house after Master dropped me off and made me jog naked through our neighborhood. It was all consensual fun and games, though- he wasn’t being particularly mean. I had a huge smile on my face when I got home!!

The smile didn’t last when my kids caught me, though. It led to several much-needed conversations about consensual relationships and probably laid the groundwork for us to move here. The kids generally laughed about it – but it wasn’t the end of the world to be caught naked. They were old enough to know we did kinky things.

We always made a point of cleaning up before we got home after that. I was rarely naked around the house, but I stopped wearing bras and panties and started dressing to please Pat.

I started to strip awkwardly as the boys made themselves at home on the couch and checked out the television.

“You have a Roku on every television. You have high-speed Internet. The Wi-Fi password is Tittys69.” Eddie told them with pride. The kids all picked up their phones and began typing it in as if that were a perfectly normal password.

“Is that Titties with a Y or an, I.E.?” Casey asked with a curled-up lip as if she were amused by Eddie.

“Tittys with a Y,” Eddie explained as he showed my husband the final paperwork and asked him if he had any questions. My husband had pretty thorough, and most of his questions were about maintenance fees and lawn care. “Lawncare is NOT included, but I am sure one of your neighbors will hire out their slave if you don’t want yours to do it.”

“No, I want mine to do it,” Pat answered him. “I just wanted to know if I’d get a break on the fees if I supply my own labor.” I felt a sense of pleasure hearing him refer to me as property -as an object. I can’t quite explain how powerful that moment was. I shed my clothes and stood in the living room wearing only my red collar. I wasn’t sure what to do with my hands. I felt kind of awkward standing in front of my kids in the nude.

I almost never had to mow the lawn in Minnesota. I did have to shovel a lot of snow, though. I was looking forward to never doing that again! I am not afraid of hard work, but Master often sent me out in a very skimpy outfit into the snow, and I had a frosty butt, to say the least!

I felt Steve and Mike staring at my tits. I’ve got some huge knockers. I tried not to acknowledge it as I stood there waiting to be told what to do. I wished for some order or instruction so that I could do something. Instead, I stood around awkwardly until Eddie turned to me to ask me some questions. He had some papers for me to sign. They were mostly consent forms releasing them of liability and ensuring I understood and accepted the rules as a submissive.

“Okay, you are going to be a full-time collared slave, correct?” he asked me.

“Yes, Sir,” I answered politely. I was nervous, and my heart was beating fast. It wasn’t like this was a spontaneous decision. My entire married life was leading up to this moment.

“Great, great, I will need you to sign these consent forms. I ask that you read them carefully and understand the consequences,” he stopped talking because I was already signing them. I had read them online dozens of times. He smiled and said he was glad I was eager to get started. “You have the right to refuse to obey anyone, to have sex with anyone, and to even leave the premises at any time. You do have certain obligations in public areas of the community.”

Pat nodded his head as this was explained to me. No one could MAKE me serve – I chose to do so.

However, I’d have to obey the general rules of the community in public areas, and that included remaining naked at all times within the community, with few exceptions.

“What happens if she breaks a rule in the community?” Pat asked. He was skeptical of allowing anyone else to make decisions about me – and I appreciated his possessiveness. It meant he cared about what happened to me!

“Well, we have a homeownership board that would make a ruling on that but rack up enough violations, and you could be asked to vacate the premises,” Eddie warned. Pat seemed a little worried we put so much money down on this place and we might be asked to leave. “I can tell that your wife is very accommodating, and since I’ve been here, we’ve never reached a point we had to ask anyone to leave.”

“How does one get on the homeownership board?” Pat asked.

“Well, we have a Master’s table once a month. You can attend one of those and be sponsored. We have general elections to the board every six months. One of the rules to be at the Master’s table is you have to bring an eternity slave to serve at the dinner,” Eddie explained. He said that anyone can call themselves a ‘Master’, but only those who have an eternity slave are invited to the dinner. Everyone brings one slave, and he or she is one of the servers/cooks at the dinner. Eddie assured us it was a fun time.

Pat inquired about the eternity slave – “What does that mean?”

“I thought you read all the literature. The eternity slave is a certification we give to men or women who have been through our program and demonstrated full mastery of etiquette, protocol, and service. It is kind of a rite of passage for someone who is a switch or playing at submission to go all the way. My wife and my eldest daughter Bambi has her certification.”

I was surprised he let his daughter get her certification – but maybe it wasn’t up to Eddie.

“Are you going to be earning your eternity collar?” Mr. Davidson asked me. I hadn’t heard about that, and I said that I would if Master wanted me to do so.

Eddie explained that they had an education program to teach slaves the basics. It was taught by other slaves, and it took five days. If I pass the tests at the end, I would get an eternity collar that is permanently locked around my neck. I got wet just thinking about a permanent collar. Eddie explained a course was coming up soon, and it often included women who didn’t live on-site but that wanted to prove something to themselves or to their Masters.

“I think Jasmine knows how to be a slave,” Pat scoffed at the very notion that I needed further instruction. I was a little crestfallen, and I think he noticed that.

It was Eddie who made the sale through. “Yes, I am sure she does. However, I could tell she didn’t know what to do with her hands while she wasn’t being purposeful in her duties. We teach a consistent structure so that she would wait like all the other well-trained slaves that live here.”

“How should I have waited, Sir?” I asked.

“If you weren’t given instructions, then you could have been in the wait or attention position. He described them, and they weren’t very difficult. The wait position involved keeping my legs apart at shoulders width and my hands behind my back. The attention position was tits out, ass cheeks clenched, chin up, hands at my sides.

I knew some basic positions, but most of them were pretty graphic and were for sexual penetration. I looked at Master with a pleading in my eye.

Master decided it was worth the 625 dollars (plus the cost of the collars) to send me to be educated. I thanked him joyously and waited in a basic waiting position.

Eddie still had more questions for me. “Are you planning to shit and piss on the lawn?”

I was flabbergasted by the question. I shook my head no without even checking with Master. That sounded completely off the wall. Eddie checked something on the paper and told me that if I changed my mind that it is expected to be bagged or buried on my own lawn. “I didn’t mean to offend you. You strike me as the kind of subbie who likes pet play. We do have a dog park, and you are free to come there and sniff all the butts you like. You just have to clean up your mess,” he added.

I didn’t know what to say to that.

“Okay, is there anyone else here that is going to be permanently collared?” he asked as he looked around – there seemed to be hope on his face that one of my kids would say yes. Pat told them they were all under 18.

“We’ve had more than a few that want to be collared before then,” Eddie explained that he had to ask the question. Pat said that would not be happening in his house.

“What’s the best way to get a teenager to want to do anything?” Eddie asked him. He didn’t wait for a response because it was rhetorical. “Tell them they can’t do something. It really isn’t a lot different than deciding to go steady. Your son and daughter are old enough to date. The kids that grow up around here think it is normal for a loving relationship to involve a collar. It’s really no different than a pledge ring.”

My husband reluctantly acknowledged that fact but assured him that none of the others would be full-time collared. The girls both sighed in relief, and Mike and Steve smirked.

“Okay, well, you do have to know some things as well. Dolphin Shores is clothing optional. That includes a hundred yards around the walls in any direction. We own all of it, but obviously, the Florida Highway Patrol may choose to disagree. If you leave the safety of the walls, then you are on your own as it relates to what is and isn’t street legal.”

Pat chuckled at the notion of the Highway Patrol coming out this far. We were really in the boondocks of Florida on the edge of Tampa near a bunch of mangroves and swamps.

“The one place that is not clothing optional is the pool area. There is no clothes at the pool. There is also no P in our pool, which is why we call it an O.O.L.,” Eddie made a corny joke, and my kids groaned.

“No pool? We traveled 1600 miles to come to Florida, and I don’t get to use the pool?” Casey sounded upset.

“You can use it. You just have to swim naked,” Pat reminded her. He had an impatient look on his face. Casey had been the one to suggest we all move down here, but then she was the first one to find reasons it was a bad idea. I suppose that was just her nature.

He explained that Dolphin Shores was not as fancy as a place like Sunny Manor. “Even they have the same basic rule, though. Their pool is off-limits to people who want to gawk but not take off their clothes. The reason we have this rule is simple. Most of us have no problem with nudity. We want a safe place we can express ourselves without a lot of tourists ogling everyone. I assure you that no one will stare at you if you are naked. You will be just another body. The only people who stand out are those who insist on wearing bikini bottoms or something. It’s really not that bad. You should give it a try and keep an open mind.”

“As if!” Casey scoffed.

“Well, the playground is clothing optional. So you can use the swings, monkey bars, and the like fully dressed,” Eddie offered her as a consolation with a shrug of his shoulders. He said it was perfectly normal for teenagers to be reluctant to go to the pool.

Casey rolled her eyes and told him she was 16 and she had long outgrown playgrounds.

“My daughter Bambi is 16! You’d probably love her,” he suggested. Casey seemed inclined to dismiss that idea. “There isn’t a lot of social things for teenagers around here. I know many of you are going through puberty and you see the body as dirty and shameful. I am so glad we raised my daughters here. They have no interest in seeing what a boy has swinging between their legs and no curiosity – they already know what he has.”

Pat seemed inclined to let the topic drop, and so did the rest of the family. Eddie picked up on that and continued with his welcome.