For me being a live-in slave is one of those, “be careful what you wish for,” situations. The closest situations like being a live-in began years ago, when I was young, relatively attractive (I guess) and, looking back on it, rather innocent. I was a Roman bath slave (yeah, the whole toga/loin cloth thing) for a Mistress and made coffee for the Mistress and her daughter who stopped by; was a house slave for a couple of hours at a time at a Mistresses apartment doing cleaning and manual labor and being used by a couple of Mistresses as a sub to train aspiring Dominas. In recent years I’ve been an “on call sub” I guess you’d call it, being my Mistress’ driver, run errands, do heavy lifting, etc. with no real playtime involved. (Although the Mistress will slap and demean me if I make a mistake.)

My only advice to those who want to become live-in slaves is that you really have to know the Mistress very well. Jumping into this with a stranger is far too risky. For instance, the only time I was a house slave for strangers was for two Mistresses (I think they were mother & daughter) when I was in college. Long story but I was shoved into a closet for 15 or 20 minutes half naked when a regular client came up pleading for a session immediately. After several anxious minutes of them telling him, “We have someone coming up shortly,” he left, they got me out of the closet and played with me for a half hour before telling me to get dressed and get the hell out of there.