anony9865 @anony9865
I remember my life before I became a slave like it was yesterday. I grew up in the bustling streets of Bangalore, India, surrounded by vibrant colors and exotic smells. My parents owned a small shop where they sold spices and herbs to tourists, and I would often help them out with their daily chores. But as much as I loved my life back then, things took a dramatic turn when I turned 16 years old.
My parents couldn't afford to feed me properly anymore, so we were forced to give me away to a wealthy man who promised to take care of us in exchange for my service. He brought me to his mansion and made me do all sorts of chores - from cleaning the floors to taking care of his guests' kids. But as time went by, he started to notice something about me that I never could have imagined.
He realized that I had a deep-seated desire to submit to others, to be dominated and controlled. And so, he decided to train me into becoming a sissy slave, someone who would obey his every command without question or hesitation. He made me wear dresses and makeup, taught me how to do my hair like a girl's, and even forced me to take feminine hygiene classes so I could learn to take care of myself like a woman.
But it wasn't all bad. In fact, the more he trained me, the more I grew to love being a sissy slave. There was something about being under someone else's control that made me
