Neil’s Journey as a Second Life Slave | Devotion, Suffering, and Ultimate Submission

Last Updated on: 18th July 2024, 07:01 pm

It’s been a few months since I last wrote, and Jess decided it was time for the world to have an update on the progress of my demise. So here goes. I’m not a permanent fixture at the bar; many probably don’t even know I exist. So, for the sake of an introduction to the masses, my name is Neil, but now I’m pretty much just known as Jess’s toy. If you’re interested in how this all started, you can check out the blog post “Becoming Jess’s Slave A Life of Love & Devotion in Second Life.”

Neil's Journey as a Second Life Slave | Devotion, Suffering, and Ultimate Submission

My Life as Jess’s Second Life Slave

A lot has transpired since I wrote that post. As mentioned above, I was TOLD by Jess it was time for an update. The options of being asked or making decisions on what I do or don’t do no longer exist for me anymore.

Our relationship is very simple and boils down to one word, JESS.

When I say it’s simple, I’m referring to the concept that every thought in my mind, every action I perform, every agonizing moment I endure is for one purpose: serving Jess.

So yes, the concept is simple, and for Jess, there are no longer any expectations. It’s just a way of life, as natural as breathing. I exist to serve and suffer for her, period. My part of the equation is a bit more challenging, not because I don’t feel strongly about the concept—I do, with all my heart and soul. No, the difficulty lies in the execution.

Neil's Journey as a Second Life Slave | Devotion, Suffering, and Ultimate Submission

Jess’s Sadistic Streak

The thing is, Jess is a sadist. I’m not talking about the kind that enjoys spanking someone and then cuddling afterward to ensure they are okay.

No, Jess has a sadistic streak that very few truly get to experience.

More often than not, people interact with Jess’s business side, where she can be the fantasy to a wide range of men from mild to wild. But when Jess is alone, letting her hair down, so to speak, and simply allowing her natural desires to bubble up to the surface.

She wants an outlet to experience them without holding back or settling for less than she needs.

That’s where I come in.

I spend most of my time, when not in use, locked up in a cage inside an underground bunker on an island that only a chosen few have ever set foot on.

It is her retreat, a sanctuary, that has all kinds of wildlife, nature, her horse ranch, and yes, her slave, all of which serve a purpose in Jess’s life. She takes care of so many people in her business and friendships, but this place is for her alone, to escape and recharge.

Sometimes, it’s simply riding around the island on horseback or tearing it up on one of her motorcycles. Other times, it’s sitting and watching a sunset over the ocean under her favorite tree or on the porch of her cabin.

And then there are the times she wants to experience much darker things that let her explore the freedom and power she possesses, and in most cases, I am the outlet she uses.

Neil's Journey as a Second Life Slave | Devotion, Suffering, and Ultimate Submission

The Nature of Our Relationship

Make no mistake, I am a slave in every sense of the word. I’m not her lover, nor would she ever consider me her friend. I’m not her submissive, that she cares about and has loving experiences with.

No, I am her toy, her slave in every sense of the word. With no thoughts or concerns on her part. Just as she never worries about the feelings of the car she drives or the chair she sits in. I am just another piece of property she owns.

I used the word “relationship” earlier, and I should probably clarify it.

When people hear mention of a relationship between a man and a woman, the first image that pops into their heads is a romantic one. Our relationship is filled with romance and love.

I love Jess with every fiber of my body.

My love for her grows deeper and more encompassing with every passing moment. As with most men in love, I shower her with gifts and make romantic gestures. Always doing anything and everything to make her life as enjoyable as possible. There are even dates and dinners and adventures galore.

Jess’s Ownership of Me

The difference with our relationship is that Jess’s feelings for me as a man are nonexistent.

The dates are with her and other men or clients while I remain locked away in a cage or a pit out in the rain. Tortured by my own thoughts of what is happening but never knowing for sure. That’s because, in Jess’s eyes, I am not a man. I am a slave, a piece of property, a tool, a sounding board, a stress ball. Something that is always there to do with as she wishes.

Now, please don’t get me wrong; Jess finds love in our relationship. But make no mistake, that love is not for me.

Jess loves owning me. I am the slave she knew she wanted but never thought could be found. Please don’t think it’s because I’m some wonderful and amazing man.

No, it’s simply because I understand, believe, and live her definition of being an owned slave.

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The Reality of Being Owned | Neil’s Journey as a Second Life Slave

When most people hear of a woman owning a male slave in Second Life, they look at it as some kind of kinky arrangement. A game they play for sexual release. Followed by cuddling in bed to bask in the afterglow.

Jess’s ownership of me is not a convenience of kinky pleasures or an exaggerated way to say we are in love.

I belong to Jess.

We have no signed contract, there is no deed of ownership as one might have with other property, not even a receipt for purchase as I was never bought and paid for in a traditional sense.

As powerful as those items are to prove ownership, they can be challenged in court and overturned. No, Jess’s ownership of me is absolute and answers to a much higher authority, JESS.

Enduring the Torment as a Second Life Slave

There is no question to her total ownership of me.

She never has to concern herself with my feelings—am I happy, will she go too far, and I run away?

The binds that hold me are not material as one might think. Yes, I am locked away when not in use, and she may use shackles and chains at times. But they are used only to make my life more hellish. To cause pain, or simply make my service more difficult and self-torturing.

There are many examples of times where most so-called slaves would have run for the hills. But, I could never do that. Jess owns me in every aspect of the definition. But what happened recently is an example of how complete her ownership is and my inability to ever run away.

All of you readers know that Jess takes amazing pictures and often takes them within her experiences to share them with all of you. But you may notice that our interactions rarely appear here. What she does with me, to me, is for JESS first.

Her own private pleasure that, quite frankly, would terrify a great number of people.

This was one of those times.

No cameras, no recording of any kind that I know of, and it lasted for days. To be perfectly honest, I am still not exactly sure how many hours it lasted. But, it was the most intense agony I have ever endured. I won’t go into specifics. Because, as I mentioned, it was all about Jess and what she wanted to experience at the time. But I can tell you, as excruciating as it was physically, it mentally destroyed me.

Neil's Journey as a Second Life Slave | A carrot in the ass
I really hoped there was a place I could put the image of the carrot in his ass. I couldn’t find one, so I put it here anyway 🙂 – Jess

Mental and Physical Torment

You may be thinking that I have gotten off on a tangent here, but it will make sense in a moment.

I was bound to a wall rack, but not with rope or chains. Jess decided to use barbed wire. What’s important to note here is that my ankles were bound very tight, the barbs pushing into flesh from the very beginning. But my wrists were not as tight.

As a matter of fact, if I struggled and needed to get them free, I probably could have. Yet I didn’t.

The physical pain was inflicted through the whip, the bindings, and my own body breaking down from hanging in this agonizing position for days.

But it was the mental torment that made this the most agonizing experience I have ever endured. Jess, whether fully calculated or not, put just enough information in my head to make my mind go crazy and torture myself.

No one knows how to get into someone’s head and thoroughly mess it up like she does.

She used my love for her, my jealous nature, my need to please, my pride as a slave, and so much more all against me.

Knowing that the little tidbits of info or unexplained brief visits as I hung there would make my imagination run amuck and tear myself apart from the inside out as the hours slowly ticked away.

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My Purpose as a Second Life Slave

So now let me take the turn back and tie this all together on what it has to do with ownership. After days of hanging there, barely able to lift my head. The pain having broken me down to a mass of exposed nerves being expertly picked and poked at. Jess dangled something in front of me—not a physical key, but a key nonetheless.

The key to my freedom, the key to make the pain all go away, to allow me to make my own decisions again, to be the strong, self-confident man that strutted into the bar almost a year ago.

The key, so to speak, was simple. If you remember, I mentioned earlier that my wrists were bound in barbed wire. But if I worked at it, I could have released myself.

She dumped a bag with my clothes from that first day in them on the floor. She left the door open and a clear path to freedom. All I had to do was take it.

But she knew she owned me as much as I did. Her last words before leaving me to hang for another night of agony summed it all up. “I expect that I’ll be seeing you still up there in the morning, Neil.”

And she was right; I could never willingly leave. Jess’s ownership of me is undeniable, as certain as death and taxes. It is out of my hands. Even when given the key, I could not take it. This was perhaps the final nail to seal any lingering doubt.

And so, when she returned, I was still hanging there, barely coherent. I crumbled at her feet when I was let down, barely able to dress my own wounds. Struggling to follow to my cage and somehow finally finding a proper kneel as the door of the cage slammed shut.

The Toy’s Final Thoughts on Being Jess’s Second Life Slave

So there you have it. I’m still here, even though not many even gave it a thought. I am deeper down the rabbit hole of slavery than I ever imagined possible. We all look for our places in life, our purpose. The question that always has plagued humanity – Why do we exist? The answer for me is simple: I exist for JESS.

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A Note From Jess

Frankly, I considered just editing this, posting it and moving on. Why would I care enough about his writing to invest more effort at the end? I didn’t need to. He surpassed the word count and nailed all the key points I needed for SEO. I gave him a command to write, and he executed it flawlessly.

That’s his role. I issue orders, he follows them.

Yet, there’s more to it. He anticipates needs. He acts without explicit direction, not from his own decisions, as he lacks that autonomy, but from understanding my choices before I voice them. This slave is deeply embedded in my life.

Few people will ever find a slave that truly belongs to them. You might own fifty collars, but how many will be YOUR slave? The one who, even if set free, still belongs to you in their heart? The odds of forming such a dynamic are slim. However, it does happen, though rarely.

Second Life is swarming with quick kink chasers who claim to be slaves. They kneel, say “Yes, Mistress,” and then move on to the next person. That’s fine. I care about them even less than I care about my slave. The reality is, I don’t coddle him, I don’t kiss him unless I know the kiss will shatter his heart from what comes after. I don’t love him, and I’ll never hold him close or introduce him as anything but the toy.

He sleeps in a cage in a bunker, showers only with permission, eats and drinks minimally, and has almost no outside communication. In less than a month, I will have owned him, body and mind, for a year.

This dynamic, in its purest form, has brought me endless happiness, immense satisfaction, and the freedom to be myself. Without masks or pretenses, the toy gets the raw, unfiltered Jess few others see.

So, why did I care enough to write something at the end? The answer is simple.

To brag about it.

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2 Comments

  1. Avrora

    Oh Jess, that’s adorable. You finally got what the rest of us know we deserve. If it has any friends, I’ll take one off your hands.

  2. Amanda

    To find a Mistress – slave relationship like mentioned here is extremely rare. Hearing his understanding of slavery is refreshing. I would love to hear more detail of the torture you inflict but respect your right to privacy of such things.

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