Slave life- Extended my contract- How I ended up keep extending my slavery days initially

I never imagined the first five days would turn into this endless spiral.

I signed the initial 5-day / 4-night contract on Day 1, thinking it was just a short, intense dive into the unknown. No prior roleplay. No hints. No games. Master — who had been a friend up to that moment — presented the paper, and I signed. The rules started instantly: regular uniform on, posture enforced, hands over flat front, dog bowl meals, thin mat on the kitchen floor for sleep, thick hardcover book under my head. No pillow. No blanket. No mercy. I thought: "Five days. I can survive five days."

But by Day 3, the pain had already shattered that illusion.

The First Extension: Day 3 – Signed for One Week Because I Couldn't Face the Cane

Day 3. The punishment debt had piled up fast — late wake-up, posture slip, slow response to a call. Master tallied it calmly: 250 cane strokes owed. He didn't waste time. He bent me over the table in the punishment room, regular uniform skirt lifted, panties pulled aside. The rattan whistled. First stroke — fire across my thighs. Second — burn deeper. By thirty, I was sobbing, legs shaking, welts rising. By fifty, I was screaming muffled pleas through gritted teeth. He stopped. I thought it was mercy.

He slid the paper under my nose. “Sign for one week total,” he said. “The remaining 200 strokes are forgiven. Debt cleared tonight. No chain tonight.”

I refused six times. I kicked the paper back. I thought: "Only two days left. I can make it. I can endure." Pride. Shock. Denial.

He waited. No anger. He just started the cane again. Fifty-one. Fifty-two.

Seventh offer: legs numb, thighs bleeding, breath shallow. I signed. Because I couldn’t take one more stroke, let alone 200. I didn’t think “one week.” I thought “tonight.”

The chain stayed off that night. The cane stopped. I lay on the thin mat in the kitchen corner, book under my head, legs touching, and for a few hours I felt relief. But as the welts throbbed and the book dug into my cheek, the regret crept in. One week. Seven days. A hundred and sixty-eight hours. I had just added two days to escape one night of pain. What was I thinking?

The Second Extension: Day 4 – Signed for Two Weeks Because I Needed to Sit Down

Day 4. The cane welts were still fresh — burning with every move. Chores started at dawn: scrub floors on knees, serve breakfast kneeling, wait in posture for orders, clean the bathroom tile by tile. No break. No sitting. No lying down. Legs trembled. Back locked. Eyes heavy. Mind foggy.

I was swaying while pouring tea. Master noticed. He stopped me mid-task. “You’re exhausted.”

I nodded — too tired to speak.

He placed the paper on the counter. The next line was already written: “from one week to two weeks total.”

“Sign,” he said. “Immediate four-hour rest sitting down — no chores, no posture rule, just sit in the chamber right now. Debt wiped.”

I refused three times. “I can last the other three days.” But my legs were buckling. I thought: "Four hours sitting is all I need to recover. Then I can push through."

Fourth offer — still swaying, eyes heavy — I signed. Because I was physically collapsing — four hours sitting felt like survival. I didn’t think “two weeks more.” I thought “four hours sitting now.”

He said: “Sit. Now.” I crawled to the chamber. Sat on the thin mat. Uniform still on. No chain. No posture. No tasks. Four hours. Quiet. Relief.

But after four hours: back to full duties. Chores resumed. Debt started again. The cycle continued.

The Third Extension: Day 6 – Signed for Three Weeks Because of One Bite of Meat

Day 6. The 2-week contract was halfway done. The uniform was already 12 days old — smell starting to cling, fabric stiffening, early layering triggered because Master sniffed and said “too strong.” Chores nonstop: scrub, serve, kneel, wait, clean. No break.

I served Master his dinner every evening. Grilled chicken. Soy sauce. Garlic. Rice that smelled like food, not filler. The smell alone made my mouth water. I knelt nearby, eyes down, stomach growling loud enough for him to hear.

He noticed. Didn’t say anything at first. Took a bite. Chewed slowly.

Then, casually: “Sign for three weeks total — right now — and you can have the rest of this chicken. One meal. Real meat. After that, back to your bowl.”

I froze. The chicken was right there — hot, juicy, seasoned. I hadn’t tasted anything like it in two weeks. The craving hit like a wave — sharp, deep, desperate.

I refused twice — “I can last the rest of the two weeks.” Third offer — stomach growling again — I signed. Because the smell was right there. Because I couldn’t take one more day without tasting real food.

He pushed the plate over. I ate kneeling, fast, savoring every bite. Salt. Texture. Warmth. Tears came — not from sadness, but from how good it felt. One real meal. One moment of normal food.

Next morning: rice + beans again. The craving was back — stronger. And now the contract was three weeks.

I signed for three weeks not because I wanted three weeks. I signed because I couldn’t stand one more day without tasting real food.

And Master knew it.

The Fourth Extension: Day 7 – Signed for One Month Because I Couldn't Face the Cane Anymore

Day 7. The punishment debt had piled up fast — late wake-up, posture slip, slow response to a call. Master tallied it calmly: 250 cane strokes owed. He didn't waste time. He bent me over the table in the punishment room, regular uniform skirt lifted, panties pulled aside. The rattan whistled. First stroke — fire across my thighs. Second — burn deeper. By thirty, I was sobbing, legs shaking, welts rising. By fifty, I was screaming muffled pleas through gritted teeth. He stopped. I thought it was mercy.

He slid the paper under my nose. “Sign for one month total,” he said. “The remaining 200 strokes are forgiven. Debt cleared tonight. No chain tonight.”

I refused three times. I kicked the paper back. I thought: "Only two weeks left. I can make it. I can endure." Pride. Shock. Denial.

He waited. No anger. He just started the cane again. Fifty-one. Fifty-two.

Fourth offer: legs numb, thighs bleeding, breath shallow. I signed. Because I couldn’t take one more stroke, let alone 200. I didn’t think “one month.” I thought “tonight.”

The chain stayed off that night. The cane stopped. I lay on the thin mat in the kitchen corner, book under my head, legs touching, and for a few hours I felt relief. But as the welts throbbed and the book dug into my cheek, the regret crept in. One month. Thirty days. Seven hundred and twenty hours. I had just added two weeks to escape one night of pain. What was I thinking?

The Fifth Extension: Day 14 – Signed for Two Months Because I Couldn't Stand the Chain Anymore

Day 14. I was already two weeks in. The uniform was starting to smell — faint but constant. Chores never stopped: scrub floors on knees, serve meals, wait in posture, clean again. No break. No sitting. No lying down except at night.

But the debt had piled fast. Late wake-up yesterday. Slow response this morning. Posture slip while serving tea. Master tallied it silently.

Evening. He didn’t speak. Just clipped the chain to the ceiling hook. Standing. Heels on. No sitting. No leaning. Arms behind.

One hour. Two. Three. Legs trembled. Toes numb. Back screamed.

Four hours. Five. I started to sway — chain tugged neck. Pain shot up spine.

Six hours. Seven. I whispered — barely audible — “Please… Master… I can’t…”

He didn’t answer.

Eight hours. Nine. Ten.

I was shaking. Tears. Voice gone. Legs locked. I couldn’t stand anymore. I couldn’t think.

He walked in. Paper in hand. The next line was already written: “from one month to two months total.”

“Sign,” he said. “Debt cleared. No chores. No posture. Rest while kneeling”

I was broken. I didn’t think “two months more.” I thought “I can’t take one more minute standing like this.”

I signed.

He unclipped the chain. I dropped to my knees. He pointed to the chamber.

“Kneel”

I crawled. Kneeled on the thin pad. Uniform still on. No chain. No posture. No tasks. Just sitting. Four hours. Quiet. Relief.

But I knew it was temporary. The debt would return. The chores would return. The chain would wait for the next slip.

I signed two months not because I wanted two months. I signed because I couldn’t survive ten more hours standing in chains.

And Master knew it.

Slave life- Month 4- The First Night the Pump Started

 I signed the six-month extension on a Thursday night in month 4.

The regular uniform was already unbearable — four weeks unwashed, layered double, smell thick, rash burning at collar and waist. Master had offered the clean set of uniform and debt cleared if I signed the extension. I signed it.

The next evening he came into the chamber while I was changing to the regular uniform

I had just finished unzipping the left side of the pinafore. He placed the breast pump on the shelf.

Electric. Quiet. Clear cups. Tubing coiled like a snake.

“From tonight,” he said, “60 minutes. Every night. After you change.”

No explanation. No discussion. Just the order.

I froze for a second. Then I followed the procedure I already knew by instinct — the up-dress method we use for everything that needs access.

Unzipped the pinafore on the left side — 25 centimeters, just enough to free the chest. Unbuttoned the top four blouse buttons. Lifted the front fabric.

Pulled the demi-cup bra cups up — nipples exposed. Applied the cups myself — cold plastic sealed against skin. Suction started with a low hum. Pulled the bra cups back up to hold everything in place.Re buttoned the blouse. Re-zipped the pinafore.

The uniform was fully on again.

Only the faint tubing line under the waist showed anything was happening underneath.

I lay down. Hands over flat front. Pump ran.

First 10 minutes — strange pulling, cold tightness. Next 20 — ache began, skin stretching. By 40 minutes — soreness, nipples throbbing. By 60 — burning, swelling, sensitivity sharp. To my surprise, some liquid dripped slowly — into the bottle he had placed on the floor, it was extremely little though.

The uniform pressed down on the swollen breasts — fabric rubbing raw with every breath.

No air flow under the layers. Heat trapped. Sweat beaded between blouse and bra. I shifted — pinafore bunched, tugged the tubing, pulled the cups tighter.

Pain spiked.

I remain still for fear of more punishments.

When the timer ended, I reversed everything.

Unzipped left side. Unbuttoned top. Pulled bra up. Removed cups — sharp blood-rush pain. Pulled bra back in place. Buttoned blouse. Re-zipped pinafore.

Nipples were red, tender, engorged. They ached against the fabric for hours. Sleep was restless — every turn rubbed them raw.

This is now every night. 60 minutes. Uniform always on.

No help. No mercy.

The Extension Ladder – How I Signed Every Step (and Why)

I never wanted more time. I never wanted forever. I just wanted the pain to stop — for one night, one day, one week. That’s what every signature was. A plea for relief. A bargain for breathing room. And every time the ink dried, the relief disappeared. The pain came back — heavier, longer, sharper. But by then the paper already had the next line.

1. First extension: 5 days → 2 weeks Criteria: heavy punishment debt (chain every night, snaps, extra layers) + begging mid-punishment. Carrot: one full night without chain + snaps paused for the next 9 days. Holdout: 7 offers (same night). I refused six times — pride, shock, “I can endure one more night.” Seventh offer: legs numb, chain digging, I signed. Why: I couldn’t take one more night of iron. I didn’t think “two weeks.” I thought “tonight.”

2. Second extension: 2 weeks → 1 month Criteria: debt stacking again (snaps + layers) + one revoked mini-off day tasted. Carrot: one mini-off day (4 hours light duties) + current debt wiped. Holdout: 4 offers. I refused three times — still clinging to “I can last.” Fourth offer: still chained, thighs burning — I signed. Why: the revoked off-day left me desperate for that tiny break.

3. Third extension: 1 month → 3 months Criteria: first real off-days tasted but revoked often + growing debt. Carrot: two off-days promised in next cycle + full current debt erased. Holdout: 3 offers. I refused twice — still some resistance left. Third offer: chain tighter, knees raw — I signed. Why: the off-days were the first mercy I felt — losing them was worse than three months.

4. Fourth extension: 3 months → 6 months Criteria: off-days now real but rare + punishment debt accumulating + regular uniform smell/layering at peak discomfort (week 3–4). Carrot: four off-days promised + clean regular uniform set tonight (no layering for now, soft, odor-free) + month-long chain cycle waived. Holdout: 2 offers. I refused once — but the smell, the layers, the rash were too much. Second offer: I signed. Why: the dirty, layered uniform was constant torment — a clean set felt like mercy. Refusing meant more punishment for smell + continued suffering.

5. Fifth extension: 6 months → 1 year Criteria: chain nights routine, layers suffocating, debt looming, off-days shrinking. Carrot: six off-days promised + total current debt slate cleared. Holdout: 1 offer. I hesitated once — then signed silently. Why: off-days were the only mercy left — signing kept them from disappearing.

6. Sixth extension: 1 year → 2 years Criteria: off-days shrink further, debt piling, outside world distant. Carrot: ten off-days promised + everything forgiven so far. Holdout: 0 offers. Paper appeared. I took it. Signed. No resistance. Just reflex.

Final: 2 years → lifetime Criteria: everything normalized — routines automatic, off-days the only remaining mercy. Carrot: twelve off-days a year + all future punishment debt removed forever. Holdout: 0 offers. Paper appeared. I signed before he spoke.

Important note on timeline These extensions do not follow a fixed timeline. The progression is logical (each builds on the last), but a skilled Master can accelerate it dramatically — offering the next stage days, weeks, or months early when debt is high, exhaustion peaks, or obedience is perfect. It is entirely possible that by month five, I would have already signed the 1-year and 2-year extensions (in quick succession), and at the 1-year mark (month 12), the lifetime contract is offered and signed. The paper grows when the pain is fresh and the carrot is timed perfectly — not when the calendar says so.

Simulation: A Potential Accelerated Signing Period (Month 5 Focus)

Month 5 began with the 6-month extension already signed at month 4. Off-days had happened twice — both revoked. Debt was back: chain nights, layering, snaps.

Day 132 I overslept by 18 minutes. Master found me still in the boxed bed. Hose collar locked. Chain clipped to ceiling hook. Heels still on. I knelt upright for hours — knees raw, calves burning, neck pulled taut. He came back at night. “Sign one year total,” he said. “Debt cleared tonight. Off-days continue.” I was shaking. The chain dug in. I signed.

Day 135 Three days later. Still sore. I was slow to kneel when he called. He noticed. Brought the same paper back. Added one line: “to 2 years total.” “Sign this too,” he said. “Debt wiped again. Stability.” I was too tired to think. The memory of the chain was fresh. I signed.

Month 12 (1-Year Mark) By month 12, the routine was everything. Off-days once every two months — revoked half the time. The paper was almost full. Master placed the lifetime contract on the floor during posture check. “No more signing after this,” he said. “Off-days stay. Collar welded tomorrow.” I signed. Not because I wanted forever. Because the alternative — losing the off-days, facing debt, starting over — was unthinkable.

I signed every time. Not because I wanted more time. Because he made stopping hurt more than continuing. And in month 5, I signed two extensions in three days.

Slave life- Chores- Purpose of the maid's glove

Update on slave protocol. 

In vanilla, the purpose of gloves is to keep the maid's hand clean while doing chores. However, this is the opposite here. The purpose of the slave wearing the pair of white maid's gloves is to keep the environment clean and away from the lowly slave's hand. 

Thus, it is befitting that whenever the slave has to be in contact with dirty work, the slave has to remove the gloves and contact directly with the 'dirty' object with bare hands. 

It does not matter if the slave's hand is dirtied as a result. Because thats the life of a lowly slave to begin with. 

Thereafter, after the particular dirty chore, the slave has to put back on the gloves so that the it protects the master's belongings clean from the dirty hands. 

Some chores which may require removal of gloves may include (not limited): 

- Brushing of leather shoes

- Wearing the shoes for master

- Hand cleaning of floor with cloth 

- Picking up of rubbish 

- Clearing of trash 

- Clearing of table after meals 

- etc

Images of Brushing of leather shoes and wearing the shoes for master

After the particular activity, the slave is to wear back the gloves to protect the surrounding from the slave's dirtied hands

Event- Costumes show

 Master likes to hold regular social events for his friends to visit and have fun. After all, he owns a slave whom he has confidence that can make all his guest happy. 

Most of the guest needs will be serviced by the slave, inclusive serving of drinks and snacks, greeting them at the door and helping them undress their coats. And any needs the guest requires- all the slave has to fulfil. 

This event's theme: Costume show

Guest each will bring a set of costume which they enjoy the see, each guest will pay the master a fee for the costumes to be worn by the slave. 

Also, there will also be a vote at every costumes presentations. Highest vote will be what the slave will wear for the rest of the night. 

As usual, I have to be in the full formal uniform for the start of the event. 

Welcoming the guest as they starts to arrive, I kneeled by the door to receive them submissively.

And the usual serving of guest... 

 Then at the appropriate moment, master, the host came up to the stage and make the briefing for the next part of the event. I was instructed to stand submissively in front on everyone. 

Master then brief everyone: "Thank you for coming, and contributing your own costumes for this event! Your monetary contributions is as usual generous.  We can continue to organize such event with my slave as the play toy is because of your contributions. "

--- Applause from the floor--- 

He continued: "Hope you will all like today's theme on my slave... All your costumes are placed in the room and in the next few movements, my slave will be instructed to change into the costumes to parade for all of us to see. Then we will caste as vote on the costume. Then, my slave will be instructed to go change to the next costume for the next presentation. And the vote will continue. While waiting, we can all continue to socialize and have fun!"

"The vote will be tallied at the end of all the costumes presentation. The slave will be made to wear the winner costume for the rest of the night! and the guest who contributed the costume, will be personally serviced by my slave for the night.!" 

The briefing was also an instructions to me. Master next instructed me to go to the room to change into the first costume. I complied obediently. 

The rest of the night was undress, dressed into the next costumes and present to the guest and instructed for the next change until the last costumes. Most costumes are school uniforms, some are work uniforms, some are national dress and some are just dress that the guest like to see me in.

And a few more... it was like a rush for me to keep going in the room and change to the next costume.. Was very tiring.. Until the last costume.. Finally...

And the vote came in. It was a surprise! It was the plan simple red dress that has the highest vote.. Maybe is because of the bright red color
that aroused the guest. 

So for the rest of the night, I was ordered to wear this costumes and serve him until the next morning. 

Until the next morning.. The guest had a enjoyable night. In the morning, I kneeled down to greeted him before he leaves the house satisfied. 

Before I changed back to the formal work uniform for the routine work again, waiting on master.

Slave life- Master's Cage- Part 2

 There was this season, master decides that I needed more mental conditioning as a slave. 

He finds that there are times I still have minds of a vanilla person and suggested ideas of how I should be a slave to him. Usually, these made master fuming mad and was punished severely for me to reflect on myself. However, he finds that it does not seems to have long term effect. He needs to do more to make me know my REAL POSITION. 

So he buys a cage! 

This is the video of the experience of the day in the cage.... 

Slave life- Punishment video- Being chained by the neck to the ceiling for the night

Imagine being chain up the whole night in this manner- Simple yet tough on the slave