A Day in the Life
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Synopsis: The lifestyle of a severely victimized slave. Codes = F/m, torture, cruelty, reluctant.
Copyright © Ted Underfoot
This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.5/ or send a letter to:
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San Francisco, California 94105
My Queen has commanded me to write about a day in my life.
One thing I appreciate about my Queen is that when I am allowed to write, she allows me to be free in what I write. I could even write help get me out of here if I wanted to, but I don’t want that.
I will exercise that freedom and give some background because my Queen has told me to write this as if it would be read by someone who finds it on pages sitting in the street. Between you and me, I know that only my Queen will read this but I humor myself to try to hold onto some of my humanity.
Where to begin. 7 years ago when I was 48 years old I became very re-interested in BDSM and being a slave to my wife. I say re-interested because my wife and I had played around with her as my dominant a bit, earlier on in our marriage, but then once BDSM re-entered our lives she became my Princess and since that time I have never willfully disobeyed any of her commands. My Princess (as she was known at the time) was new to BDSM and her enjoyment slowly grew over time. She felt early on that she could really enjoy having a slave but it took time for her to find ways to take full advantage of having a slave. I encouraged her, of course, because as a slave I wanted to be taken advantage of. Ironic because of how things are now.
Things changed 5 years ago. 6 years ago I had read some rather extreme views of male slavery from the book Owning and Training a Male Slave as well as from a few extreme web sites which, chances are, you have heard of since those have grown in popularity so much in the past few years. The popularity grew from that movie Slave a few years ago but as a fantasy, sort of like a Lord of the Rings or Star Wars for BDSM. Ok, that is a bad analogy and I have never been allowed to see Slave or any movie lately for that matter. The point is that people enjoy thinking about rather extreme male slavery from that movie as a basis for good fantasy. For me, though, it is all real and that was even before the movie came out.
My Princess enjoyed the book and web sites I mentioned and then found more reading material about extreme male slavery. She then contacted other dominant women and with their guidance my Princess directed us into that lifestyle. This occurred gradually over a couple of years and I greatly enjoyed the early parts of our transition. I had kept asking for more cruelty because, as strange as it seems, that is what I enjoyed. I can no longer understand how I would have wanted that but I do remember that it was the case.
One of the principles in the book, the web sites, and the movie is to consensually blackmail the male into non-consensual slavery. The male has a need to submit and be a slave and the dominant woman takes pictures and videos of him in various extremely humiliating BDSM situations.
One popular method of blackmail is for two straight male subs to be kept from having an orgasm for many days or several weeks, and then to have those two males “sword fight” in which they are on their knees on the floor facing each other with their hands tied behind their backs forced to induce the other male to orgasm from the rubbing of their dicks. Depending upon how the game is played, the winner might be the guy who makes the other guy cum and then the other guy has to suck the winner’s dick until completion and then lick and swallow the cum of both. In any case a video is made of the incident with both guys required to make it seem as though they clearly enjoy the experience. The dominant women then legitimately threaten to post the video of her slave on a gay male web site with detailed listings of all of the man’s work, friend, and family contacts including phone numbers and e-mail addresses. In that way the man becomes a non-consensual slave due to that blackmail.
I do not know how that blackmail exactly works in practice because that is not how my Queen enslaves me. In my case my love for my Queen completely enslaves me and there is nothing I would not suffer for her. That may sound all noble and romantic but that is not how it feels to me. In reality I am completely dependent upon my Queen for the bits of her love she shows me. I say “bits” but it is actually a whole lot, it is just not nearly as much love as she used to show me. I am not joking when I say that if I left her or if she threw me out on the street, I would rather die. In other words, I am weak and pathetic. Had I said that 5 or 6 years ago it would have been hyperbole or even role-playing but now there is nothing romantic or erotic about it. I am a legitimate and eternal slave to my Queen.
I guess I could belabor the point further on how we got to where we are now and my Queen’s increasing interest in completely enslaving me, but my Queen really just wanted me to write about a typical day in my life. I am finding myself procrastinating now, even though it feels great to write again after several weeks of not being allowed. My hesitance is due to how painful it is to think about my life as it is now. I try not to think about it and maybe that is why my Queen wanted me to write about it.
I should begin from the time I wake up, which is at 5:00am each morning. I must admit that as my slavery became more severe I no longer suffered from insomnia. I am so physically and emotionally exhausted each night that sleeplessness is no longer an issue for me. My alarm wakes me at 5 and then, after I remove myself from the shackles and cage … I guess I will describe all of that when I discuss the end of the day … I quietly crawl from my cage into my Queen’s bedroom and into her Queen-sized bed, and I lie down next to her in the opposite direction so that I may easily service her bare feet with my hands and mouth as soon as she wakes up, which could be any time from 5:30 to 7:00am. From time to time I am too noisy and I wake her up, and I have to be very careful with the noise from the small chain which attaches my penis piercing and my ass piercing. She never gets angry and I am thankful for that but as you might suspect I am punished for absolutely everything I do wrong and waking her up is a major infraction, which I will refer to later.
I guess I should describe that my penis is tucked back towards my ass with a chain connected from a piercing in my penis to a piercing on my ass. In that way I am not allowed an erection and at the times I become aroused I feel anywhere from mild to severe pain in my penis and ass as my penis pulls against the chain. There is only one time when this is a problem for me and that is in the morning when my Queen wakes up and puts her bare feet in my face and her toes in my mouth, while at the same time lovingly caressing my penis. For a guy with a foot fetish like myself, this is pure heaven and we have done this many mornings for several years. But once the piercings were put into place a few years ago this positive became a negative because I still have the same arousal reaction but it becomes very painful very quickly. I have tried to find ways to not become aroused from the touch of my Queen’s feet on my face and tongue and the touch of her fingers on my penis but it is no use. My Queen just loves torturing me with this pleasure and I know that my fate will be to suffer like this almost every single morning. In a way it is one of the worst parts of my day literally rubbing into my face that my only pleasure is my pain.
Once my Queen has had enough of my foot worship she usually has me provide oral pleasure at her shrine but this doesn’t last long because it is intensely pleasurable for her and she can only take a few minutes. From there my Queen sometimes has me wear my strap on to fulfill her for the morning or other times she is already satisfied and either way she has me snuggle her from behind. These minutes of intimacy are the best parts of the day and without them I really don’t know how I would survive.
Once my Queen is ready to get up she says her first word of the day “Up” (unless she has uttered words such as “Suck it, bitch!” during a previous activity) and I quickly get off the bed and run my Queen’s warm scented bubble bath as she uses the toilet. Due to my Queen’s preference after her discussions with other female dominants, I am spared what many other slaves are subjected to in their Queen’s toilet area and I am permitted to simply kneel in position #1 on the hard floor of the bathtub area. I sometimes look back longingly to the time several years ago when I bothered my Queen about such nonsense as kneeling hurting my knees or back and now I simply suffer in silence, considering that the last time I briefly mentioned the issue a few months ago I was given a moderate punishment as a result.
As my Queen waits a few minutes for the bathtub to fill up she typically slaps me around with her hands, usually in the head, ears, and face as well as a few slaps to my balls, though not so hard that I cannot fulfill my bathing duties. My Queen enters the bath and mostly relaxes as I scrub her, moving a bit and then turning over to allow me to reach each area before she exits the tub and I wipe her off with a towel. I find these activities quite pleasurable and I must admit that if my day consisted of pleasures such as what goes on early in the morning, then I would be a happy man. Unfortunately for me, it all goes downhill from there.
My Queen then spends the next 45 minutes taking care of getting ready for the day such as putting on her makeup. She is never content to have me sit idle or take care of chores when she can enjoy me being in some sort of state of torment and while she is in the bathroom vanity area I put myself in whatever painful predicament bondage she prefers that morning. Just to pick the ones from today, I was told to set an ice pack on the floor and lie on my back on top of it. It is very painful for me to do that so I arch my back but that begins to hurt and eventually I have no choice but to allow my naked back to feel the freeze. I was required to accept the pain for 2 minutes at which time the ice pack had melted. Because I was able to avoid the pain for several minutes that delayed my having to set up the next torment which was to attach a heavy weight to a ring around my balls and dick and put my wrists in cuffs which are suspended from the ceiling. I have enough room to crouch so that the weight rests on the floor but crouching becomes uncomfortable and then painful and the cuffs prevent me from sitting so after around 10 minutes I had to stand and accept the pain of my balls and dick being pulled by the weight. This was a lighter than usual session.
After my Queen finishes putting on her makeup she releases me from predicament bondage and as she dresses to get ready for work I am required to lock heavy shackles on my ankles and neck, though no chains connect them. These shackles were custom made and are not bondage per se but simply make me expend energy in performing simple acts such as vacuuming or dusting. In addition, I am required to lock a custom ring around my balls. This ring sends a powerful electric shock to my balls every half hour so I am careful to prepare for these zaps all during the day while my Queen is at her work. I place the keys to the shackles and rings inside my Queen’s safe which is locked with a code known only to her. Hypothetically, if I had to remove any of the devices for an emergency I could call her on the phone and she would give me the safe’s combination but that has never happened.
While suffering for my Queen’s amusement is my lot in life at almost all times, my primary purpose during the day while my Queen is at her work is to perform chores she commands of me. Every workday she prints for me a list of chores for me to complete. I do not enjoy chores, of course, but it is a time when my mind is least burdened by thoughts of my own suffering. My concentration is mostly on the chores themselves and only every half hour do I need worry myself about pain. The pain of the shock on my balls is quite severe and I dread every occurrence, checking the seconds on a clock for when is the next zap.
I sometimes look back longingly at my career days. Even after BDSM entered our lives my Princess at the time very much wanted me to continue working. Ironically, while I loved my career and felt that it suited me well, I disliked having to work and I would often just wish I could retire. I went somewhat overboard in saving money for early retirement. Once my Princess decided to become my Queen in implementing her increasingly severe authority over me, she decided that I must quit my career so that I may serve her fulltime and use her earnings as well as what was previously my retirement money (now all hers) for us to live on. Before she made this decision I tried hard to please her without risking my career but it wasn’t working well and my Princess needed more of me.
I remember the day she told me that she had decided my career days were over. My initial reaction was to be happy to retire so early but considering the increased suffering I had been going through by that time, I also became fearful of completely losing all of my freedom. My intuition told me that I would regret this day and as usual my intuition was spot on. Now my career is to suffer and serve, much more than I had ever even fantasized about. I am a slave.
I am sorry to dwell on these things. I have difficulty with my emotions especially when I wallow in self-pity so I try to focus on the good times, although in writing this I am finding it hard to remember many good times. Really, though, I am thankful because as bad as things are, they could be worse. That is a motto which has helped me through some very dark times. My Queen does not permit me to show or discuss emotional difficulties because she wants a happy slave. I could probably write a lot more about the dichotomy there between the suffering slave she wants and the happy slave she wants but I do not want to dwell on it and I fulfill both roles to the best of my ability, in order to avoid punishment.
I have mentioned punishment a few times already. It drives everything I do. From the moment the alarm clock wakes me to the moment I fall asleep at night I dread doing anything which might cause my Queen to punish me. At first this dread made me so nervous that I had difficulty with any of the physically delicate tasks and that made punishment a frequent occurrence but I just couldn’t handle that and I was successful in doing whatever I need to do to avoid punishment. I used to not understand even the idea of punishments in a BDSM relationship because if the dominant loves the submissive then there should be no need to punish. But I was obviously very wrong. Punishment is part of my life most days even though my Queen loves me, or if I think about it punishment is in part because my Queen loves me and wants me to succeed in making her happy.
Getting back to my typical day, after I have spent however many minutes she wants for me to lie prostate on the floor kissing her shoes and she leaves for work, I immediately begin my chores. My Queen is very generous to not give me so many chores that I am working all day and typically the chores last me around 5 hours, with the rest of the time spent in my cage which I love because of the serenity there. I do not question the chores, of course, but I suspect that my Queen doesn’t actually care much about each and every chore as much as she just wants me to be busy doing tedious tasks in her service. I take care of all of the household chores, of course, and keep our house basically spotless with frequent deep carpet cleaning, floor mopping, detailed dusting, window washing inside and outside, and so on. I never would have dreamed that windows should be washed every few days but my Queen commands and I obey without batting an eye. Fortunately, we do not have neighbors who might see my collar and ankle shackles when I am outside in the back or sides of the house and when I am in washing the front windows I wear a heavy turtleneck sweater and long pants to cover the metal, even when the weather is hot.
On Fridays I do not put on the heavy collar and leg irons so that I may go shopping for food, pick up my Queen’s dry cleaning, and take care of other tasks requiring me to be out of the house. My Queen actually enjoys some tasks on her own out of the house including dropping off her own dry cleaning on Wednesdays so one day per week is usually enough for me to escape the house temporarily.
And I do not complain about my chores one bit. Part of the reason for that is that complaint would obviously lead to punishment but even in this journal in which I have been told that I may tell the entire truth I do not complain about chores because I prefer doing chores to the alternative.
On some days, mostly weekends when my Queen is at home, I am directed to perform extremely tedious tasks purely for her amusement. These shame me because at least with chores I feel useful but these tasks are simply to make me miserable. And I am miserable. I must admit that my Queen is creative in her cruelty but it just doesn’t seem right that she gets so much pleasure from my pain. I will list a few of these tedious tasks to give you an idea.
I used to be required to write lines on a pad of paper such as writing “I am a completely worthless slave under my Queen’s feet.” Over and over. For hours. I had to produce the results at the end and for any lines which were not written very well, or if my Queen felt that I slacked off, I was punished. I no longer know what it is like to be a free man in not having to be subjected to such things but I think if anyone free is reading this they can probably imagine how horrible this is. And this became worse than tedious because my hand would cramp up and after a few of those writing assignments over the course of a week I was in some serious lingering pain. My Queen is sadistic but she does not want damage to her property so these writing assignments are now very infrequent.
There is a computer program called Fond of Writing in which a dominant may require a sub to type the same phrase or set of phrases over and over, for hours. It is customizable by the dominant and my Queen particularly enjoys having me type long paragraphs with words of complex characters such as aHIlR^#sT in which I sometimes can’t even tell the letter l from the capital letter i. And sometimes the program requires me to type the paragraphs backwards. Usually the results I am typing do not show on the screen and are replaced by asterisks so I can’t even correct my mistakes. I am usually in tears during these assignments because they are so horrible but tears do not move my Queen to mercy and in fact she enjoys my suffering. A few times I have literally thrown myself at her feet to beg for relief and my Queen’s amusement at my suffering does give me a minute or two of respite but I am always required to complete my assignment. She verifies my completion and a report of my errors gives her a metric for the punishments I must suffer afterwards.
Fortunately, most of the rest of these sort of tedious tasks I am assigned are much less traumatic. And they are all much better than the agony I go through every night, which I will write about later in this journal. It is funny to be able to talk dispassionately about agony, not really funny but you know what I mean. There is nothing dispassionate about the nightly agony as it occurs but after some soul-searching and thinking about the issue for months I realize that the agony gives me emotional overload which fades with the agony itself. In reality, I am probably in some sort of shock or emotional denial about it but I am not a psychologist and I like to just think of it as compartmentalizing.
Let’s see, tedious tasks. On days when my Queen is home but does not desire me to take care of chores I am often required to sit in our small standing cage or lying curled up to fit in our other cage. My Queen enjoys the aesthetics of her slave literally being behind metal bars. Usually in a cage I wear a diaper and am required to pee in it. I do not know what aspect of my cage time is the worst but it all seems to combine together, the humiliation of being confined or diapered with my own urine, the physical discomfort of being required to stand or lie curled up for hours, and the utter boredom of literally nothing to do. If my Queen is in the same room I find myself with a strong yearning for even a small amount of the freedom she possesses as she walks around the room or into another room, or even when she just sits comfortably.
At other times during the weekend I serve as a footrest for my Queen as I lie or kneel on hands and knees on the hard floor. This has close to the same issues as being in a cage and even though it seems like it might feed my foot fetish desire, there is nothing enjoyable about remaining still while having several pounds pressing on my back, chest, or head for an hour or more as my Queen reads, naps, or otherwise relaxes.
Re-arranging items in cabinets for the umpteenth time is a popular tedious pastime for my Queen to give me. Polishing with my tongue every shoe in her closet is another.
On many of these types of tasks we are on the honor system in that I tell her that I am done, although sometimes she does inspect. One time I had completed a task exactly as she told me to but she found a speck of dust on one of the cups and deduced that I had not fully completed the task, and I was punished for attempting to plead my case with what she determined were lies. Since we were on the honor system for that task my Queen saw what she believed was my error as a violation of her trust and I received an extremely severe punishment. Up until that time I had not willfully disobeyed any of her commands but I had considered it; afterwards, I do everything I possibly can to not violate her trust in me. I think she has noticed as my honor system work is not checked up on in detail as often as it used to be. She does not need to worry, though, because as I stated earlier I obey not only from fear but also love. I am truly her slave from both of those heavy chains.
The honor system is also in play for my daily exercise regimen. My Queen makes sure that I am in good physical shape by requiring me daily to perform 25 pull-ups, 50 box jumps with a 24-inch box, 50 push-ups, 50 deadlifts of 135 pounds, 25 crunch sit-ups, and 25 more pull-ups. At my age in my mid-50s this is very difficult and my Queen has allowed me to ramp up to this regimen slowly over the years, and she allows me to spread out my exercise requirement over the course of the day. In addition to lunch and dinner, I am required to consume one protein shake and one half bag of spinach each day.
One of my last tasks for the day is to prepare dinner and the dining table for my Queen based upon a one-week menu she gives me each Thursday night.
When my Queen comes home from work she requires me to be fresh and not fatigued which is why she limits my daily chores and tasks to 5 hours. Every day after my carefully portion controlled lunch of fruit and a protein bar I am required to take a nap in my night-time cage, in the 30-minute interval between zaps I feel on my balls. And before she gets home from work I make sure to clean any bits of dust I may find in the house and then take a shower. I am on the honor system for most of my daily chores and nap but I am pretty sure that she would notice if I made an error of intent or negligence. I almost prefer for her to have a way of verifying tasks because sometimes I am punished for not doing a chore to completion when I actually did. But if anything isn’t done to my Queen’s satisfaction, even if I did what I was told to do to the best of my ability, it is right for her to punish me because her happiness and opinion is truly all that matters.
My Queen requires me to be on my knees in a specific submission position #2 when she arrives. With traffic and the general uncertainty of when she will get home, I am often kneeling on the carpeting for 15-30 minutes or even longer. I don’t dare get out of position because my Queen is often very quiet as she approaches the door in an effort to find me disobeying her but I am always in position at the required time. A few times she has unexpectedly returned home from work early and punished me for not being ready at the door, but we both knew that she was just torturing me for her pleasure.
My Queen sits in a chair near the front door and I then remove her shoes and spend time kissing her stocking or bare sweaty feet which again causes my groin and ass to feel the pain of my penis pulling against my piercings. This is more for ritual so it is brief since my Queen wants to relax to a full body massage as soon as she gets home. For years I was certain that she was allowing me to kiss her feet for my benefit out of her love for me but with the pain from the piercings I would prefer not to worship her feet. She knows my preference and I think that is why she wants these foot worship rituals to continue, to torment me.
Speaking of torment, I am really dreading writing about what goes on every night. I usually reserve my tears for the time when I am feeling agony but maybe I am not able to compartmentalize as much as I thought.
After my Queen’s full body massage for 30-45 minutes with whatever lotions and potions she wants me to use on her, she requires me to wash my mouth out with soap and then provide oral worship at her shrine. She used to be self-conscious in making sure to be clean when I am doing that but that is no longer the case and instead she insists that my mouth is clean instead. It took some training a couple of years ago for me to be able to take even a bit of the taste of soap as I would gag and cough severely from it but my Queen required me to just suck it up buttercup and after a couple of weeks of daily soaping in my mouth I was able to not gag. Now I still hate the taste but considering everything else which goes on, it’s not so bad. The oral session is always brief before my Queen reaches her limit and then I finish preparing and serving dinner as she checks her e-mail and visits web sites, something I have not been allowed to do for the past few years.
It always feels strange when I announce that dinner is ready because for that one moment of the day I am actually in charge. My Queen does not want dinner to wait for her so she insists that I notify her as soon as it is ready. I know that I began this desire for BDSM as a submissive but I would really love to be a Master. This desire is so far from being any sort of possibility that it is laughable (if I ever did laugh any more) but I still feel it deep in my heart somewhere.
I used to barely be able to boil spaghetti but with my Queen’s guidance and training as well as the recipe printouts she gives me of dishes she wants me to cook, I have become a satisfactory cook. Cooking is an area in which I have received a whole lot of punishment over the years as it is more difficult for me than it should be, and I still have difficulty with mistakes during preparation of some of the many new meals I am required to make. If I make a total mess of a meal then my Queen dumps it on the floor for me to clean up and I am required to make her a quick standby meal which I always have ready. I believe that some nights she wants only the standby meal and tastes the main meal only to make me feel bad for disappointing her.
I think it goes without saying that my Queen eats while I kneel on hands and knees on the floor eating my own dinner from my dog dish while awaiting her commands as she watches TV during dinner. My dinner is one of two blends of mush which provide me nutrition with very little flavor. For a few weeks a few years ago my Queen experimented with having me eat all sorts of things included in my dinner but thankfully even she was disgusted with that stuff. She saves most of my suffering for later in the evening.
After dinner I wash the dishes by hand while my Queen checks more web sites or watches TV and then I kneel on the floor and massage her bare feet as she watches TV until she takes a 10-20 minute nap. I learned the hard way never to stop massaging even while she is asleep because the punishment for that negligence is severe.
My day probably does not seem enjoyable to you at all. I am not sure what you are reading into my emotions as you are reading this. Perhaps you feel that I am living a dream life as a BDSM slave to a cruel Queen. I know that 6 or 7 years ago I would have considered this to be a wonderful dream life. I would have been wrong. In fact, I was an utterly ridiculous stupid fool. What I have described so far is horrific, as horrific as it would seem to those who have never heard of BDSM. But what I am trying to tell you is that the day I have described is easy compared to what I am about to describe. I could probably have skipped writing everything above and only told you about what happens to me every night.
In fact, I can’t continue to write this. It breaks my heart. Please don’t make me write any more, my Queen.
I knew even as I wrote the above that begging would be meaningless. I have been told that I may take my time in writing this over the next few days.
After my Queen’s nap she removes my collar and ankle shackles as well as the ring around my balls. She then spends the next 3-4 hours torturing me. I am not talking about some light spanking or playful pinching. It is torture by any definition of the word. I am literally in agony every night.
I admit that when there are days in which I am legitimately sick such as with a flu or one time with a swollen ankle, I am spared a night of torture. Or on the rare times that my Queen is out of town, I am spared torture though not spared chores. So out of the past 5 years or so there have been exactly 16 nights when I was not severely tortured.
What type of torture? That is what I have been afraid to write about. Does anyone else have to suffer torture like this every night? My Queen tells me that it is standard for most male slaves so it must be so and it would be pointless for me to have doubts about her word, hypothetically speaking.
The details vary but there is one torture I always suffer every single night. As I stand in the dungeon – the room set aside for my Queen’s sadistic enjoyment – my wrists and ankles are held apart by rope pulled from the sides of a wide standing frame. In this position I am unable to move at all and my Queen begins her systematic and methodical work of striping my body from neck to toe using various implements of impact torture. At times I may be moved to a spanking bench or a whipping post, though always I am restrained so that I may not move to avoid the blows. My Queen uses at different times two different crops, three different canes, a belt, a hard wooden paddle which she calls “Justice”, a hard rubber loop shaped like a tennis racket but without the webbing, five different stingy floggers (!), and a flexible but hard rubber slapper which she calls “The Truth.” Some of these are applied only to my ass and thighs and eventually create slight bruises instead of the stripes my Queen seems to love the most.
Imagine spending a full 60 minutes being whipped on literally every bit of skin from the wrists and on all sides of the forearms and upper arms, on the shoulders (she places a towel around my neck to avoid damage there), all up and down the back, all up and down the chest and stomach, and all up and down and all around the thighs and calves. I do not have to imagine it. I feel it every night and the pain, mild bruises, and not mild stripes linger all night and the next day. A few times I have tried to count the blows but the agony is always too great after just 10 minutes for me to think coherently. My Queen always places a ball gag in my mouth so that I do not damage my mouth but the gag has holes so that my Queen may clearly hear my screaming.
I used to read about how some BDSM subs are pushed towards their limits of pain and how a dominant can “break” a sub by torturing until crazy screaming. I can confidently say that I am broken every single night. Years ago when this ritual began I tried a few times to safe word by yelling “Red” but my Queen simply laughed and that is when I knew that she was serious about her pleasure being my pain. Most nights I pass out from the pain but smelling salts revive me so that my Queen’s fun is not interrupted for long. Usually after I have been screaming for a half hour I have expended so much energy that I am limp in the restraints and just suffer the agony mostly in silence.
I have reread my last three paragraphs and they don’t do justice to the experience. I am shaking now and I have to concentrate to breathe, just from the fear of this tonight.
And on most nights, this is only the beginning of my Queen’s fun. The rare times when I am given the rest of the night off have been due to circumstances such as the few times I was apparently completely out of my mind raving, from what my Queen told me afterwards, or the few times my Queen had to take care of other business later in the evening. Even when she is not feeling well, she always finds a way to torture me which helps her feel better.
With red crisscross stripes of pain all over my body I am given a rest of usually 10-15 minutes and then the next torture is applied, once I am restrained spread eagled face up on my Queen’s torture table. Often the next torture session requires little effort from my Queen such as a combination of the following: applying electrodes and cranking up the power to give me relentless pulses of pain on my thighs; rubbing a chemical of some sort such as Bengay or a combination of hot pepper sauces on my dick; up to a few dozen clothespins applied to different areas of my body including my nipples; a big electrified dildo shoved up my ass and pulsing pain; and/or big binder clips clamping several fingers and/or toes. My Queen enjoys just sitting nearby and watching me whimper and attempt to struggle for usually 30-45 minutes.
During the one hour striping process my Queen is usually mostly quiet as she concentrates but during this passive torture session she is often laughing or commenting about how much she enjoys it. A part of me gets satisfaction that I am providing so much joy for my Queen and while that is the truth, I am rarely in touch with that part of myself as I simply try to withstand the agony.
After the second nightly session of torture I am allowed to crawl to the bathroom for rest and cleanup for close to a half hour until my Queen claps her hands for me to return for more torture. I am always exhausted after the first two sessions of torture and I use the half hour of rest to regain some of my strength and eat my last protein bar of the day.
The third nightly session is always with my Queen’s most ominous implement of torture, a single-tail whip she calls “Squeaker” because it always makes me squeak once my voice is hoarse from screaming. I am typically shackled to stand facing one wall of the dungeon. This is the session in which she administers my punishment for infractions during the day so it is usually a short session due to my obedience, fortunately for me since every stroke from this whip is pure agony, but sometimes as I have mentioned earlier I do incur a moderate or severe punishment in which case I lose track of time in my haze of agony. Punishment is always accompanied by a lecture and I am required before and after punishment to explain in my own words what I did wrong and how I will correct the problem going forward. This is very difficult for me after the punishment because I am usually barely conscious but my Queen allows me some time and as long as I am sincere in my contrition, as I always am, she gives me leeway. The marks from a Squeaker punishment session usually last for a few days, causing more pain to build the next night when I am whipped in those same spots.
There is no rest before the fourth nightly session in which I am required to crawl out of the dungeon and into the den where my Queen watches TV as she casually tortures me or I am locked into predicament bondage. This is where my Queen becomes most creative and I believe that at other times she interacts with other dominant women to share fun ways to torture their male slaves.
The method of torture varies greatly. One night my Queen will have me lie on the hard floor for an hour or more with my ankles locked into a spreader bar and one of my feet within arm’s reach. Then she will wrap a thick rubber band around my foot and alternate frequently snapping it hard against the sole or using one of her canes to whack the sole of my other foot. I never would have believed that a rubber band could hurt so much but I am always in tears from the pain. Fortunately, my Queen enjoys TV so that the blows are not usually one right after the other but if the show is somewhat boring then I know that I am in for a world of hurt.
Another night my Queen may hogtie me to lie on the floor at her feet where she would use my head as a footrest, while occasionally using a remote control to zap my dick and balls with a dog shock collar.
Sometimes she will lock my wrists and ankles into spreader bars and put my head in a sensory deprivation hood. I would think of this as a sort of reprieve from agony except that she always implements some sort of torture on my body such as BenGay or a dog shock collar on my groin, and she enjoys watching me struggle while she watches TV, frequently using the remote control to zap my groin.
Some nights my wrists are locked into cuffs dangling from the ceiling and my nipples are clamped with chains running to fixed points on the wall. If I stand on my tiptoes then the pain from the nipple clamps is minor but I can only hold that for a few minutes and when my muscles shake from the fatigue and my feet drop more flat, my nipples are being pulled by the clamps and I am in terrible pain.
At times my ankles are placed in cuffs which are attached to chains running through a fixed point hanging from the ceiling, and the chains are attached on the other end to clamps on my nipples. As I lie on the ground if I hold my feet as high as possible in the air then my nipples are not pulled but as soon as my legs get tired and my feet lower, there is considerable tension on the chain and my nipples are agonizingly pulled upwards away from my body. This is one of my Queen’s favorite predicament bondage techniques as it always makes me whine from the pain in a very pitiful way.
Often my head is put in a hood which is then attached to chain hanging from a hook in the ceiling. My hands are tied behind my back and my legs straddle a stool on the floor. My Queen places a triangular block with a flat section at the top onto the bench so that I have no choice but to either stand on my tiptoes, which I can only do for a couple of minutes, or sit on the block. This would be uncomfortable enough but she always places something painful on the block so that it makes me cry in pain such as stinging nettles, a sponge treated with hot pepper sauce, or itching powder, and with my dick pushed in the direction of my ass from the chain attaching the piercings, the head of my dick tends to get the brunt of the burning pain. I always cry from this and this makes my Queen very happy.
Even after the second torture session for the evening I feel mostly dead and once the fourth session ends I am usually barely able to crawl into my low thick metal cage for my Queen to attach the shackles from the cage to my wrists and ankles. With the skin on most every part of my body still feeling the sting of whatever tortures it was put through this evening, I curl up on the somewhat soft bedding of the cage as if it was the most heavenly divan in a rich woman’s mansion and I usually fall immediately asleep. My Queen places the keys to the shackles and cage well within my reach so that I may begin the next day in service to her at 5:00am to do it all over again.
I love my Queen. I don’t know how love works for others but for me it is the thickest shackle I can imagine. I know that my Queen loves me because she tells me and I can see it in every sadistic interaction she has with me. I know that if something were to happen to me my Queen would be extremely unhappy in not being able to satiate her sadistic appetite. I guess one can say that I am fortunate in being needed by the woman I love.
Note from his Queen:
My husband is adorable. I asked him to write up a day in the life of his fantasy and he dredged up all of this suffering as if anyone could actually live that way. I treat him with love and tenderness and just a bit of whipping. He just enjoys pretending that he suffers. I read his comments on web pages about how horribly his wife makes him suffer and I laugh at how ridiculous it is.
Actually, I am joking. Everything my slave describes above is real, and he is of course not allowed on the web. I was somewhat lenient on his chores for the past few days to allow him to write this because I know that you sub guys eat this up with a fork thinking that it is a dream life. My slave tells you how horrible it is and yet you love it! Who in their right mind would want to live like this? But still you sub guys envy my slave and wish your wives and girlfriends would treat you like this. I could see where this could be a male fantasy but honestly, how stupid are you?
Ladies, you are the ones who should eat this up. I know that most of you would never want this for your relationship, which is fine, and even if you would want it you think that you could not get away with this. But if your sub guy loves you enough and, like many sub guys, has these sorts of fantasies of suffering at his Mistress’ whims, you can have him as your total slave just like this, or however you want him. I highly recommend it. Message me and I would be glad to give you individual guidance and coaching. Think honestly to yourself, wouldn’t you love to have your sub guy be your complete and absolute slave?
Word Count = 8,300
See all my stories at http://www.assdisc.com.