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I live in what could be called a female dominance commune - a big, isolated farmhouse shared by ten women, most of us in our twenties, and our slaves. Although we differ in our individual tastes, we're all pretty far into dominance. That is, we're all very hard on our slaves, and they've all learned to take it. We have a pretty good set up.
We swap slaves quite frequently, and sometimes hold a lively slave trade, not only among ourselves here in the farm house but with women we know elsewhere. Sometimes it's a permanent trade, sometimes a swap for a day or week. And most of us are always willing to lend a slave to a woman (if we like her) who wants to try her hand at dominance. I'm one of the more active traders: I've owned six slaves, one at a time, in the past year. Obviously, I've never become deeply attached to any one person. One reason we trade so much, in my case at least, is that there is a special thrill in breaking in a new slave and teaching him to serve my particular desires.
Slaves do not always like to be traded, especially if they've fallen in love with their mistress or if their new owner is particularly cruel.
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Our slaves are not just playthings, they're workers who perform all the household chores and who wait on us hand and foot. Beyond that, some of us slave owning women practice something that I haven't read about. We use our slaves as beasts of burden, riding them on their shoulders rather than their backs, because better control is offered from that position.
I find there's no more delicious use, nor proof, of my absolute power over a slave, than to make him carry me on a long morning ride. I sit lazily on his shoulders bare legged, kicking him to make him go where I want, feeling his body straining under my weight, lashing him at will with my riding crop, and feeling his head jerk in pain between my naked thighs. The more tired he gets, the more I whip him and the harder I squeeze his neck with my legs. I've had some lovely orgasms that way, and for this reason I always go a good long distance.
A few of us who enjoy this particular sport meet on Saturdays for what we call "the slave races." We compete to see who can get the most out of her slave by holding endurance races, long distance races, hundred yard sprints, and obedience races in which the slaves are blindfolded and run through an obstacle course. There is nothing more thrilling than a close finish with all of us lashing our human mounts as hard as we can - often switching mounts.
We've experimented with using spurs to get the most out of our slaves, and I've found that when I'm wearing spurs I can almost always outride a woman who only has a whip. But you have to be very careful with spurs; blunt edged ones should be used to avoid causing permanent damage. And we only use spurs on a slave who has been trained to endure a lot of pain. Before each race we indulge in a little ritual - each rider makes her slave kneel, put her spurs on for her, and kiss her feet, (I've discovered another use for my spurs. If my slave is not performing cunnilingus to my satisfaction, I wear them and us them to punish him for his mistakes).
I am pretty rough on my slave and if they didn't want me to be then they wouldn't be here. When I ride my slave on his shoulders I'm very rough, spurring him until he screams and then some if he doesn't ride me fast enough or the way I want him to. Slaves like it or they wouldn't be slaves.
I am very demanding, insisting on absolute power over a slave. I enjoy inflicting pain and making him work for me like a dog or a horse. Still I have limits: I don't want to disfigure or humiliate him in public. So far I've had no trouble finding men I can train to be the kind of slave I want. I might find a man I can fall in love with and maybe then I'll settle down the just one slave. Even so, I imagine I'll want to swap him occasionally for a new experience, or as a favor to a friend. For now, I'll continue to enjoy the unique life style at our commune.