Synopsis: I am kidnapped, tortured, and humiliated. Codes = M/m, torture, feet, non-consensual.
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:
171 Second Street, Suite 300
San Francisco, California 94105
“Mind if I ask you a question?”
This came from the blue. I was sitting on a bench in a small park in the city near where I live, enjoying the sun and reading a book. I am a guy who enjoys quiet relaxation and I would rather not have discussions with random people I don’t know.
There had been no-one nearby until now so he must have walked towards me with the purpose of asking his question.
I lowered my book and responded somewhat reluctantly “I don’t mind.”
He remained standing and asked “Have you ever taken a self-defense course?”
I didn’t want to be recruited for his course so I said “No, I don’t usually go to places where I might be in danger.”
He said “What would you do if someone threatened you with bodily harm?”
I replied honestly, “Probably run.”
He pointed towards my legs stretched out on the bench and said “It is difficult to run barefoot.”
I responded “I usually wear shoes.”
He persisted, “You aren’t wearing shoes now.”
I figured that I needed a more direct approach. “Thank you for asking me about this but I am not interested in taking a class. I need to relax in my free time and would like to do that by reading.” I slightly lifted my book to try to strengthen my hint to go away.
He grinned and said “My class is free. Actually, I wasn’t thinking about a class, I was thinking about attacking and kidnapping you and figured you were easy prey with your slight build and puny muscles.”
What the hell. Was he being serious? An attacker wouldn’t say something like that, would he? We were in a public place, the sort of thing he was talking about only happened in bad neighborhoods but even then it wouldn’t happen in broad daylight, would it?
I decided that he was probably joking but I was cautious. I sat up and put my feet on the ground, I didn’t want to stand up to prompt him to attack me, or laugh at me for taking him seriously on his joke.
I said “Is this supposed to be funny? What is the point of this?”
He responded “I am not joking. I wanted to give you an opportunity to give in and not put up a fight, that way you wouldn’t be hurt in a struggle.”
Oh Shit! One of my biggest nightmares seemed to be upon me at this moment. I have never been in any sort of physical fight, not even when I was in school, and I never thought anyone would have reason to attack me except maybe in a mugging when I would just give them everything they wanted anyway.
I saw a real fight once, on the streets several years ago. I was picking up lunch from a sandwich shop and there were two guys arguing about 50 feet away on a sidewalk. One guy was really angry at the other for doing something but I couldn’t quite catch what it was, the other guy was defiant and I think he didn’t believe that what he did was wrong. The swear word war intensified quickly and they started to scuffle.
It seemed dangerous on the hard concrete of the sidewalk but they were intent on hurting each other. I had seen scuffles before but only by young boys in elementary school, never with such intensity as this. I was fascinated and also afraid for the two men, I could not look away.
At one point one of the men was able to grab the other man’s shirt to hold his face steady and he cocked back his arm to deliver a punch. I was horrified at the situation as it just seemed unreal to me that someone would punch someone right in the face with a bare fist. I told myself to look away as I might not be able to handle seeing it but I could not look away, I watched the punch as if it occurred in slow motion. The man’s fist shot right towards the other man’s face and I will never forget the sound of impact as he connected just to the side of the man’s eye with a loud crack.
I was stunned in horror. The man’s head rocked back and then I turned away before he fell to the ground. This all may seem silly to those who have seen fights or maybe I am just unreasonably squeamish but I almost fainted and was in a daze as I walked to my car in the other direction and drove away.
All of that horror suddenly came back to me now. Here was potentially that same sort of violence right in front of me. I was terrified but still hoping beyond hope that this was a practical joke or just someone having fun.
He gave me an out, though, and I was thankful at least for that. I said “I won’t put up a fight.”
He seemed disappointed. “You understand that I am going to kidnap you, you’re sure you won’t put up a fight?”
I replied “I am sure.” I was slightly shaking with fear and I did not hide that. I would do basically anything to avoid getting punched in the face.
He said “Come with me.” I put on my shoes and socks as he hovered near me menacingly and then we walked to the street at the edge of the park towards his car. I got in the passenger seat and buckled up with the standard seatbelt and shoulder restraint when he told me to.
The feeling of this sort of “kidnapping” was surreal. All during the walk to his car I thought about the different options and possible consequences.
If he was joking in any way, then I felt that I was taking the right approach. It might end up being humiliating when he revealed the cameras showing what a fool I was in not putting up a fight but that possibility seemed very improbable at this point and would not cause much harm. Actually, this whole experience seemed less than improbable, this just couldn’t be happening. But it was.
On the other hand, if he was serious about attacking and kidnapping me, then I felt strongly that I was taking the right approach. Even with my shoes on I was sure I could not out-run him and if I screamed I was sure he would attack me and easily win. I wouldn’t come close to being able to fight him off and I imagine that he could just cover my nose and mouth with his hands to make me unconscious.
Or he could punch me in the face.
I had to obey him. I didn’t feel that I had any other option.
He drove the car 15 minutes to a house in a nice neighborhood and we didn’t say a word during the entire drive. I wanted to ask what was going on or what was going to happen and several times I almost gathered up the courage but the honest truth is that I was afraid, terrified.
And I was afraid of the answer, even if I was given an answer I couldn’t accept, I didn’t feel that I could take any action on his answer and that would have made me feel even more helpless. So I kept my mouth shut and for some reason he did not say anything, probably to keep my fear level high.
During the drive I also thought about just taking off the seatbelt and shoulder restraint, unlocking the door, and escaping while stopped at a signal but that would have taken a few seconds and he could have just quickly punched me in the jaw before I was halfway unbuckled.
How could this happen? There had to be a way out of this. But if there was a way I could not see it. Every escape scenario I could think of ended with a punch in my face.
After he pulled in to the driveway behind his house, he told me to stay there as he quickly got out of the car and opened the door on my side. Then he told me to unbuckle and walk beside him.
As we walked into his house through the back entrance, he did not lay a hand on me, knowing that he could quickly catch me if I did try to escape.
Or maybe he knew that in my fear I would not even try to escape.
I felt numb. It was as if my body had been trying to escape, run, or fight but my fear was holding it in place and the constant war within me had just left my emotions numb. It was a very one-sided war.
He led me through part of his very nice house and to a metal door which seemed out of place with the rest of the décor.
He unlocked the door with a key and reached in to turn on a light switch, he said “Get in, and watch your step.” There were steps downward so I walked down each carpeted step towards the bottom which opened into a room beyond view at this moment. He was right behind me.
At this point I wondered if this was my chance.
Stairs can be dangerous and maybe if I swung my fists around like a windmill and hit him from the side he would fall over the railing and I could escape. Or maybe I could pull him towards me and drop down as he tumbled violently down the stairs.
Or maybe the tooth fairy would fly down and lift me away from the situation back to my safe home.
During the short descent I became depressed. I felt like a coward. In reality, I am a coward, a worthless coward.
When I got to the bottom of the stairs I saw that it was a poorly lit basement of some sort and I could not see much of what was in the room. I think I saw a bed so I figured that this would be where I was staying for a while.
I became depressed and I regretted not fighting back before. I should have tried to escape before even if my chances were slim. I did not want to stay here.
He turned on a light switch in the room and I saw not only a bed but other things which scared me more. Much more. I saw an apparatus in the middle of the room for chaining someone spread-eagled, I saw whips on pegs in the wall, I saw an area which contained what looked like a brazier for coals which could be heated, and I saw other smaller instruments on small shelves and tables in the room.
I fought back.
I turned toward him quickly to see if I could come up with some sort of method of attack. I had never fought anyone but I felt that if I could punch him in the stomach or in the face, then I could stun him long enough to allow me to run down the street to a neighbor’s house for help or at least run screaming in the street to attract attention.
He hadn’t yet put up his hands or anything to protect himself and if I had time to notice I would have realized that he wasn’t worried about me at all. I moved towards him and cocked my right arm back and I pushed my fist forward with all of my might into his unprotected stomach. I was angry and felt ready to do physical harm for the first time in my life.
He flicked his arm quickly to deflect my blow which ended up connecting with nothing, knocking me somewhat off balance, and then he returned to his relaxed stance. I quickly regained my balance and tried again but with the same result.
I then tried to grab his arm with the intention of throwing him against the wall or down to the ground. I did grab his arm and getting my whole body into the throw I tried to wheel my body around to swing him into the wall.
But my body didn’t move. I tried again but he was a rock and he didn’t even seem to be straining at it.
He chuckled and said “You can’t be serious.” Well, I was glad at least that he didn’t seem angry. Maybe this is all he wanted, maybe he just wanted to beat me down and then he would let me go … but even before I finished this thought, the fact that he had this dungeon told me completely otherwise. I was going to end up here no matter what and pain would be involved so I may as well fight for the small chance that I could escape now.
I backed off a bit making sure not to bump into anything in the room, and in what seemed like a fighting stance I tried to find some avenue of attack. But it was laughable. I felt helpless and tears quickly started welling up in my eyes and just a couple of seconds later I began to sob.
He said “Come here” and I could hear compassion in his voice. He felt sorry for me. I felt like a complete wimp, felt like it because it was true.
I put down my dukes and took a step towards him not quite knowing what he meant when he said come here, he lunged at me and I started to flinch backwards but he wrapped his arms around me in a bear hug.
I was expecting to be crushed but instead he just hugged me and held my head against his shoulder for me to cry on.
This can’t be happening. It doesn’t make sense for him to console me after threatening me and leading me here to this dungeon.
I guess a benefit of having no choice in what is going on, since I couldn’t fight back, is that I didn’t have to worry about what made sense or what decisions to make. Not having any real choice to the contrary, I just accepted his embrace and leaned my head against his shoulder. I wasn’t crying after the first couple of scared sobs but I was still very emotionally unsettled.
While still hugging me he asked “Are you okay?”
I answered “Yes but why is this happening? May I please go home?”
He let go of me and gently put my head between his hands to look into my face. “I need you to listen to me carefully. Do not ever try to fight back again. You have no chance of hurting me but I might injure you accidentally in response. Do you understand me?”
“Yes. I won’t fight back again. You are too strong anyway.”
He then said again “Come with me” and led me to the bed. He sat down on the bed and told me “Kneel in front of me while I ask you some questions.”
I felt completely inferior and under his thumb already so it did not seem out of place to be kneeling in front of him.
He asked “What is your life like up to this moment? I want you to tell me about your family, your job, your hobbies, and anything else important in your life.”
Even in normal situations my mind tends to race to figure out the meaning behind what is going on at the moment, reading between the lines of a conversation or trying to understand motivation. Today, my mind was just going crazy trying to figure out what was going on.
None of this made sense. His actions were too contradictory. I concluded that he was a madman like in the movies, maybe he would mutilate me and murder me, maybe he would keep me here and feed me grapes and bonbons, maybe … I just had no idea. But I knew that I had to find a way out. A physical confrontation seemed an unlikely solution as I doubted that he would let me have access to some sort of knife or other weapon to use so I would have to find some way in which he would make a mistake and leave me an opening to escape.
So I decided that it was the correct strategy to complete play along and do exactly what he says. And it wasn’t difficult for me, I didn’t have a choice anyway as my fear drove me to obedience so for the first time today my logic and my fear came to the same conclusion.
I replied, trying to answer in the order he mentioned these, “My family is great, my Mom and Dad have always been supportive of me.”
He interrupted, “Where are they and how often do you see them?”
I indicated to him that they live in a suburb which is about 30 miles away and I see them on average once per month. I paused in case he wanted to ask more questions, I then continued “My job is a data entry supervisor in the accounting department of a company which sells paint.”
He asked “What are your hours?”
I answered “8:30 to 5:00 every weekday.”
He said “I guess let me tell you why I am asking these questions. I want to know who will miss you.”
Shit. That makes sense, now at least I understand this line of questioning.
He continued “And I would strongly recommend telling me exactly the truth without omitting anything. I have an ace up my sleeve and I think you know what would happen if I caught you lying.”
He didn’t need an ace as I am a bad liar and had no intention of risking a lie.
I said “No-one will miss me until Monday morning at work.” Today was Saturday so my guess is that I doomed myself to stay here until Monday morning, I went further because I was afraid of leaving out this bit of information “And if I don’t show up to work for one day nothing really would happen.”
He smiled. I think he enjoyed such strong displays of subservience.
He asked “What would happen on Tuesday?”
I replied “I am only guessing, but I would think that my manager or maybe one of my employees would try calling me and then if I had to guess I would say someone would show up at my apartment door on Wednesday. But that is just a guess, it could be later or sooner.”
He said “Your family wouldn’t notice you were gone in that time? What about a girlfriend or other close friend?”
I answered honestly “My family wouldn’t notice. I don’t have any close friends unless you count long distance friends on the internet, and I don’t have a girlfriend.”
He asked “Are you gay?”
Ugh, that put me right on the spot, a spot I was not prepared to talk about with anyone at all, let alone someone I wanted to get away from.
He quickly sensed my discomfort and before I could answer he held up his hand and said “Wait, don’t answer that. At this moment I would rather not know.”
I didn’t understand his motivations but I was glad for the small reprieve.
He changed the subject, “I have another question for you and I already know the answer.
“Are you ready to be completely obedient?”
I replied quickly “Yes.” I was afraid of what he would have me do or what he would do to me but I felt like I had no choice.
He said “Stand up” and then he commanded “Take your clothes off.”
I started taking my clothes off and looked around the room a bit, I became depressed again. How could I stand being tortured until I could escape or he let me go? Could I even take a few minutes of torture let alone a few days?
I removed my shirt, shoes, socks, and pants and I looked at him for an indication of whether I should continue with my last article of clothing. He did not move so I went ahead and removed my underwear and I then had nothing on at all.
For some reason nakedness is not a big deal with me. I don’t generally care if someone sees me naked whether it is in a public shower or even a nurse. Maybe he meant to humiliate me with this but I was fine with this.
He stood up from the bed and with his hand on my shoulder guided me toward the center of the room and the spread-eagled restraint system. I completely dreaded this and anything which could follow this moment so I tried to think of anything to say to delay this.
I asked “Do you have any family nearby?”
He did not respond at all. Maybe that question touched a sore spot or, more likely, he just didn’t want to talk and wanted to get on with his plans for me.
He guided my wrists into leather restraints which were attached to chains hanging from pegs in the ceiling so that my wrists were hanging loosely in the restraints. He then guided my ankles into leather restraints in the floor. He adjusted some sort of pulley system to stretch me spread-eagled but fortunately, I was not suspended off the ground and while it was uncomfortable, it wasn’t painful, at least not yet.
I felt very vulnerable and helpless but in a way I had felt that way ever since I met him today. I hated this feeling of being restrained but it seemed like a natural extension of the day. I was absolutely terrified of what he would do to me. I was shaking and almost whimpering with fear.
He then stood in front of me and said “There is something I need to tell you.” He then walked towards a back corner of the room to get a chair to sit on in front of me.
My mind was racing again, or even more than it had been all day. He could tell me a whole range of things and almost none of them were what I would want to hear. But there were a few. So I made some up to help give me some sort of hope.
He was going to tell me that he needed me to help him with a math test and he was going to torture me until I agreed. I figured I would start with a silly one. He was going to tell me that he decided he likes me and wants to keep me for a few days but not hurt me. That one seemed possible since he did hug me and show compassion for me earlier. He was going to tell me that he knows he is a lunatic and has decided to ask for my help in curing him. That didn’t seem likely at all but not totally impossible.
This wasn’t getting me anywhere. Or maybe it was at least getting my mind off the horrible anticipation of what was likely to actually happen which would apparently involve several days of pain. I wondered if I would ever be able to enjoy life again after this severe traumatic experience.
Sitting in his chair in front of me he told me “I think I gave you the impression that I was going to kidnap you for a few days or maybe I would call your family asking for a ransom. But that is not the case.”
He paused while my heart sank like a rock. He couldn’t be saying…. He just couldn’t. No. I thought, let him finish, it isn’t true unless he says it is true. I kept my gaze on his mouth, just hoping that what he said next would not be horrible.
“I am going to keep you here for the rest of your life.”
I must have fainted.
When I faint in doctor’s offices, I usually feel it building up inside of me and know when it is about to occur. One time the feeling came up quickly but I still had a second to at least start towards the ground with my hands outstretched before I actually fainted. But this time it was sudden, one moment I was listening to him and the next I was out.
I awoke in the bed with him sitting over me and gently pressing a cube of ice to my lips. I was not restrained and I thought of bringing my hand up to punch him in the face but this was completely the wrong time as any strength I normally would have was gone due to just barely being awake. Fortunately, I stopped myself from doing something I would have regretted.
He asked “Are you okay?” and I responded “Yes, this isn’t the first time or even the tenth time I have fainted before.”
He laughed and said “One thing I like about you is how self-deprecating you are. It is refreshing to see someone who doesn’t puff up their own ego, you go completely the other way and I like that.”
So he likes me and wants to keep me here forever. I have seen this in a movie before. I panicked for a moment and thought please don’t break my ankles but he didn’t even need to do that to keep me here.
When I do find my opening for escape, I better make it good because I don’t think I would ever get a second chance.
He asked “Are you well enough to go back into the restraints or do you need some more time?”
Here was an opportunity for me to gain a bit of extra rest on this comfortable bed, but again I sabotaged myself with honesty. I was so afraid of him to my very core that I was helpless to stop myself from telling him the absolute truth.
“I am okay,” I responded and he smiled at my honesty.
He helped me off the bed and back into the spread-eagle restraints. While he did this he asked “Are you likely to faint again?” and I responded “I doubt it, I have never fainted twice in the same day before.” I was again terrified.
Back in the restraints I listened as he repeated “I am going to keep you here for the rest of your life.” He smiled and said “I thought you heard that before but I wanted to make sure.
“I want to let you know what your life is going to be like so that you aren’t surprised. What do you think of this room?”
I wasn’t sure what he was asking, I replied “I think that I will probably be crying a lot more.”
He said “Yes, you will. I am not trying to be mean in telling you this now, in fact I have a strange sort of sympathy for you, sort of like a part of me has some remorse for what you and I will be doing, but these things will happen and I think you may handle them better knowing up front what they are.
“I am going to torture you in a bunch of different ways, all of them very painful.”
I could feel all of the blood flowing away from my face, I probably turned white. It was the opposite feeling of about to faint. It was being fully in the moment with clarity. My mind was no longer racing, it was focused on a single thing. I am going to torture you in a bunch of different ways, all of them painful. All of them painful.
He said “I think you need to start breathing again.” He was right. I didn’t want to be in this moment, I wanted my mind to start racing again off into anywhere at all. So I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths and he gave me some time before continuing.
“That isn’t all. Are you ready for me to continue?” he asked. I wondered what could possibly be worse than what he already told me. There was nothing worse. I opened my eyes and replied “Yes.”
“In between most of the times when I am torturing you, I will be humiliating you.”
I didn’t really get what he was trying to say. I felt humiliated all day already and I imagined that people feel very humiliated when they are being tortured. So I didn’t have any reaction to his statement and I think that was not what he was expecting.
He continued “I need to say that another way. You will be groveling at my feet for hours every day, literally.”
I thought to myself, am I understanding what he is saying? Let’s compare the two situations in terms of impact: 1) being tortured, or 2) groveling. That is like comparing the crimes of murder and shoplifting or comparing a filet mignon to hamburger. I would beg for option #2 over #1.
But I decided to sort of play along with his expectations. I didn’t want to grovel so it wasn’t lying or even deceiving and if he figured out I was playing along I hope I couldn’t get in trouble for it.
So I said “Oh, I see what you mean” and tried to seem to be the victim. It wasn’t difficult, I felt like I was already the victim of fear and shame and I would be the victim of maybe the worst situation ever in the history of man to be tortured for days or weeks or years.
He smiled and looked right through my ruse, he probably planned for my reaction. “You are thinking that groveling wouldn’t be so bad after torture, right?”
I replied truthfully “Yes” and he said “You will learn. I won’t lie, torture is as terrible as you fear it to be, I can’t describe enough how bad it is.
“I am going to interrupt myself to let you know that you are the first person I have had in this room, I finished the room recently with the idea of finding someone for it and was lucky to find you today. I didn’t want you to think that I was a mass torturer or something. This room is only for lucky you.
“As I was saying, as bad as torture is…” and he stopped himself for a moment. “I am not going to be able to convince you of this with words so we’ll just wait for you to find out on your own. But I wanted to tell you what your life would be like.”
I said “Thank you” like a slave who is grateful for the smallest morsel of anything. Actually, that is exactly what I was.
That reminded me of something else so I asked carefully “What will be the situations with eating and sleeping?”
He replied “You won’t starve, I will feed you well. Good meals, not just filler. We will eat together and it will be our ‘normal’ time together when we can talk.” I couldn’t imagine anything being normal, especially talking, after suffering through torture. I figured I would be a complete basket case even after a little torture. He continued “And I will let you sleep since it doesn’t make sense for you to be drowsy. When you go to bed you can even have aspirin and bandages.”
I said “Thank you” for bandage cover on the painful cuts you give me. I was glad that I did not let my sarcasm through in my tone. Aspirin was good, though, maybe it would help with the pain. But wait, how am I going to sleep after hours of torture? I have trouble sleeping normally. I guess we will cross that bridge when we get there.
He asked “Do you have any medical condition I should know about?” This, too, was from a movie.
I thought about it and replied, “No, just trouble sleeping from time to time.”
He offered “You can take naps during the day.” Again I said “Thank you.” I will take whatever morsels I could get.
My mind raced off on a tangent again. He hadn’t tortured me yet or caused me any physical pain. He went out of his way not to hurt me. He seems to “like” me, whatever that means to him, and he has some twisted sort of compassion for me. He is a lunatic but maybe he not going to torture me at all, maybe he is just saying these things.
Maybe he just says these things for my reactions. Maybe he just wants to comfort me. This was it, I found my big hope and my spirits rose for the first time in hours. It felt like a puzzle finally receiving its last piece, it all makes sense now to me. He cares for me like a pet, he wants me under his control like a pet, he even hurts me emotionally to get me to act the way he wants sort of like a pet – although that is not how most people treat pets – and he gives me compassion when I am hurt like a pet.
Being a pet wasn’t exactly my idea for what I wanted in life but at this point I would take it, I would grovel at his feet, suffer emotional pain, and be comforted by him. As long as I wasn’t tortured with physical pain. And then I would find an opening due to a mistake which he would inevitably make and I would eventually be free. It might take weeks but there is my light at the end of the tunnel.
He rose from the chair and walked over to one of the tables nearby which turned out to contain a small freezer. He picked up a cloth and put a large piece of ice in it the size of his palm. He walked behind me and proceeded to shatter me completely, the tunnel collapsed and there was no light anywhere.
For the first time all day I felt pain. He pressed one arm against my chest to keep me still while with the other hand he pressed a bit of the ice to the middle of my bare back. My body jerked in pain and surprise but I could not move against his arm and the ice was still pressed against my back.
At first it was only a small bit of the ice which was pressed against my back but he slowly allowed more and more of the ice to come into contact with my skin. I groaned loud and then I screamed. After a few seconds of my screaming he removed the ice and I briefly shivered from either the pain or the cold, or both.
I had felt ice on my back by accident before but I was able to quickly jump to end the pain. In this case, he purposefully held the ice against my skin.
I felt emotionally crushed. How could a world exist in which this could occur? It’s unfathomable, completely unfathomable.
He moved in front of me and looked into my eyes. I poured every bit of my soul into his eyes as I looked back at him. Without words I told him that I would do absolutely anything he wanted, anything at all.
He already knew that but I think it made him happy to see it so clearly in my face.
He then said “I will be back later” and went upstairs and out of the room leaving me spread-eagled in the restraints.
I needed to salvage the situation. I need something, anything. I can’t live like this, I can’t possibly.
The good news is that he did not keep torturing me. He stopped once I screamed. I don’t think I could just fake scream and he would stop, he would probably see through that and punish me for it. But it doesn’t take much pain to get me to a breaking point so maybe the torture sessions would be brief.
Here I was in a spread-eagle restraint and thinking of always looking at the bright side of life. That was definitely in a movie. But that was a comedy and I didn’t think I would ever come close to laughing again in life, even if he did release me in a few days after torturing me.
Being restrained spread-eagled became more uncomfortable as minutes passed. It’s one thing to not have the will to fight back and feel helpless. It’s another thing to not be able to even bring my arms close to my body and to have my utter helplessness so much on display. Every second seemed to stab me with emotional pain at my situation. I wanted so badly to just hug myself, bring my arms close because that was not possible. I hoped that I was not going to go crazy with jitters being restrained like this.
Regarding the torture, he was probably just taking it easy on me the first time he hurt me or maybe even the first several times. I would bet that the torture sessions would last hours after a while. But at least I still held a small hope for brief torture sessions ending when I screamed.
Just yesterday I was living a good life and today I am hoping for brief torture sessions and being spread-eagle restrained every day for the rest of my life. And groveling at his feet for hours as that too was an inescapable part of my ideal hope in life.
He returned around 30 minutes later and sat in the chair in front of me, there was no clock so I had to guess at the time. My mind had raced around all over the place during that time. I didn’t know what would come next but I knew that the longer he was away the better. I thought that I would rather die of thirst while restrained than for him to come back and torture me.
He asked “How are you feeling?”
I didn’t know if he meant physically or emotionally so I answered about both, and always with the truth because I was still afraid of being detected telling any sort of lie. “The pain from the ice went away right away. Emotionally, I am terrified and hope that you can find it in yourself to give me mercy.”
I lost it in the middle of that last part, I started crying and sobbing and could not stop. I had been holding myself together while he was gone but I was an emotional wreck. He did not comfort me as I had hoped. He did not say anything. I could not see him clearly enough through my tears to see his reaction but he seemed to just sit still.
I continued sobbing for a bit but then was able to stop. My hands were not free to wipe my tears but the tears had streamed down my face anyway so I was mostly able to see now.
He was smiling. He was clearly enjoying my emotional pain.
After I had stopped crying he got up and picked up something from one of the shelves on the wall. He was to my side so I could not see what it was but when he returned to stand in front of me he showed me that it was a wooden clothespin.
That seemed to be out of place in this situation. I guessed you could put that on a nipple and it would hurt somewhat or you could put that in a private area and most anything you would do there would hurt so I am not sure why he chose a clothespin and not something else. He started to move his fingers around one of my nipples so I guess that is where the clothespin would be going.
I was sure that the clothespin would be painful but a lot less painful than almost everything else in the room so I relaxed a little bit and tried to think of this as a test of my fortitude. I felt that maybe this would be a torture I could handle. He pinched my nipple with his fingers and placed the clothespin there.
I felt an immediate strong pain on my nipple which sent a shock through my entire body.
My body tensed up and my head tilted back in absolute agony. I had no thought, no mind racing, no emotion, just pain, waves and waves of pain. I was screaming and a small part of me kept sanity enough to hope that he would stop the pain when I started screaming but the clothespin remained.
I felt as though my body was going into convulsions but it was just the same reaction of pain. My head had been rolling around due to the agony and after maybe 30 seconds, thankfully, I passed out.
When I awoke, I was still restrained and there was still a great deal of pain on my nipple but the clothespin was gone.
He stood in front of me and was smiling with joy.
He hadn’t stopped at all when I had started screaming. He obviously took delight in my agony. My hope for anything good or salvageable was completely gone. Life could not get any worse.
After seeming to savor the situation for a while, he released the restraints on my ankles and then on my wrists. I immediately brought my legs together and hugged myself with both arms, rubbing my hurting nipple. It felt like an amazing relief now having control of my arms, I felt very grateful to him even though that seemed foolish.
With his hand on my back he guided me towards the bed and instructed me to lie down. There was a pillow so I lay my head on it although I did not get under the covers. The bed was very comfortable and the contrast between it and the spread-eagle restraints made my body feel as though it was in luxurious heaven.
He pulled his comfortable chair next to the bed and, leaning back, he removed his tennis shoes and rested his white-socked feet on my crossed arms over my chest.
He moved one of his socked feet so that it was pressed against my face. I gathered that he was going to have me grovel at his feet and thought to myself that I should do what I could so that he enjoyed it. I wanted these times of not being spread-eagled restrained and not being tortured to last as long as possible and I would do anything for that to be the case.
He said “Turn your face toward me” and I complied, so that his socked foot was pressed up against my face. He moved his foot a bit so that the ball of his foot was pressed against my lips and his toes were resting on my nose. The smell was what I expected, it smelled like a foot, but I didn’t try to resist and did not struggle to open my mouth for breathing.
It was strange, he had implied that groveling would be worse than torture but I was feeling a great sense of relief at lying on the bed, even with his foot right in my face. I felt like I could lie here, away from torture, for hours and from what I could see by the expression in his relaxed face, he was enjoying it a whole lot.
After a few minutes he lifted his feet off me and pulled his chair a bit closer to the bed, right up against it. I was afraid to move an inch without him telling me to so my face was still turned towards him as he removed his socks and placed his bare feet on me.
He placed a bare foot on my face and rubbed his foot all over my face. It was a bit sweaty and I felt lower than dirt but I did not move. He seemed to want to get my lips to rub against every part of his foot. This increased the humiliation as my lips rubbed against his heel, his arch, the ball of his foot, and then his toes. He then maneuvered his big and second toe into my mouth.
This was really bad for me but compared to the torture, this was still a respite. I parted my lips to accept his toes into my mouth and then I even closed my mouth around the tips of his toes as I gathered that is what he wanted. He left his toes in my mouth and I was sure that he would also want to feel my tongue on his toes and probably for me to suck his toes but I couldn’t bring myself to do that. That was just too much.
He said simply “Tongue” so I quickly pressed my tongue to the tips of his toes. I thought back to my approach of making this as enjoyable for him as it could be to minimize the torture time so I closed my eyes tighter and made myself lick and suck his toes. The taste was awful, I wanted to run to the bathroom and wash my mouth out but I kept still.
After a few seconds I loosened the tension of my eyelids and opened my eyes a bit. I sucked and licked his toes and even leaned in a bit so that I could lick between his toes, the taste was just horrible. I tried my best to do a good job and I could see in his face that he was in heaven, watching my complete humiliation.
The intensity of emotion during this made it difficult for my mind to race but I was able to think on his comments earlier and I decided that as humiliating as it was, licking his toes was still infinitely preferable to torture. Unless he had something else in mind for groveling, he was wrong about this issue earlier.
He moved his foot so that it rested in my forehead and then moved his other foot to put his big toe in my mouth so I sucked on that toe. It felt debilitating to be forced to lick toes and I felt like a part of me was dying. It was just one more step in my complete subjugation but somehow this was a deeper step into the abyss, I felt like even if he suddenly let me free I would never be free of the humiliation. And I would never be free from the memory of the taste of his feet.
After another 15 minutes of having me suck on his toes, he set his feet on the ground and asked “Are you hungry?”
At this point with the strong taste of feet in my mouth I felt sick to my stomach, not hungry, but I would rather eat some food than continue tasting his foot so I said “Yes.”
He looked at me and said “Okay, I am going to have to chain you up when I leave the room, let’s set this up now so you will know what it is like once it is bedtime. Stay down.”
I obeyed his command to remain lying on the bed. He reached into a drawer of one of the tables in the room and brought out a padded leather collar attached to a fairly long chain. He told me to sit up and he fastened the collar around my neck, it locked with a click and there was a keyhole near the lock. He then fastened the other end of the chain to a small hole in the wall above the side of the bed and that also apparently opened with a key.
“Get up and walk around a bit to see how long the chain was.” I walked towards the foot of the bed and pulled back a small curtain revealing a toilet, a small sink, a bath, and a shelf with several small plastic bottles of water. The chain was long enough for me to use these facilities and I asked “Do you mind if I go to the bathroom?”
He replied “Not at all but first walk over here to see how far the chain goes.”
I walked towards the shelves and tables which contained the torture equipment but the chain was not long enough. He said “Try to reach on any of these shelves” and when I stretched my arm out as far as it would go I was not close to being able to get anything from those shelves. Any thought I had of obtaining a weapon while he was out of the room was gone.
Comfortable in knowing that I was in no danger of escaping or causing him any harm, he put on his socks and shoes and went up the stairs to leave the room. Or maybe he was making sure that I was in no danger of killing myself with those small torture weapons?
After I used the facilities and then drank as much water as I could to wash away the foot taste, during the downtime while he was gone I tried not to think about my situation but I couldn’t get away from my thoughts. I was lower than his slave, I was his plaything and torture victim. I sat on the bed, put my head in my hands, and cried. I knew that I needed to think of some sort of plan of escape but for the next 10 minutes I just cried.
He returned carefully carrying a large TV tray with two plates of food and two plastic bottles of water. I didn’t lift my head out of my hands until he was close to me and I did not wipe my tears from my face, I wanted him to see my emotional pain hoping that it would earn me any bit of mercy.
He set the large tray in front of the bed so I could sit and eat while he pulled up his chair to the tray for him to eat. The food was good, an herb roasted half chicken, corn on the cob, a piece of wheat bread with no butter, and some uncooked spinach but there were no utensils so we both ate with our hands. He said “You are going to eat healthy from now on. You won’t be getting any fast food or fatty food.”
At first, he did not try to get me to talk and we just ate. It was easier on me if I did not need to have any independent thought and conversation would have been un-fun. If I could just simply obey what was commanded of me, then maybe I could sleepwalk through this experience until I could figure a way out.
Halfway through the meal he asked, “So how did you like licking my toes?”
What is it with this guy and these ridiculous questions he asks? What does he expect me to say? I wish he would just laugh at me when he said these sort of things instead of asking so matter-of-fact, at least then I would know for sure that he isn’t interested in any compassion.
I answered truthfully “I liked it.”
He gave a double-take, that was definitely not what he was expecting.
I continued “It was much better than pain.”
He replied “Oh, yes, that is what I was trying to tell you earlier.”
I tried to think back, I said “I don’t understand.” He said “You will” and that was the end of the conversation.
After we finished dinner he told me to get some rest and, leaving the tray in the room, he took the plates back upstairs. I noticed that he also took my clothes upstairs and out of the room. I don’t know why that bothered me but I guess it was because it was another sign of permanence for me to be locked up in this room for….
This was for the rest of my life. The rest of my life. The horror of this struck me yet again and I collapsed onto the bed and sobbed for several minutes before calming down. After that my head seemed to swim in darkness, I was more depressed than I had ever been even after the incident a few years ago, which I would rather not think about at this time.
It may have been 30 or 45 minutes when he returned. As he approached the bed he said “Okay, it’s time for more.” I hoped that he was referring to groveling but he used a key to take off the collar and led me to the restraint area. I was again spread-eagle restrained.
This time he picked up a cat-o-nine-tails whip from one of the shelves and held it in front of my face to see. The strands looked somewhat frail but I knew that a whipping by most anything could be as terrible as its wielder wants it to me. I started shaking a bit in fear and he enjoyed watching my fear.
I whimpered “Please have mercy on me” but he did not respond and walked behind me. He gave my bare back a firm stroke from the whip but it did not hurt as much as I expected it to. But I wasn’t going to make that same mistake of under-estimating an instrument of torture so I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth against the coming pain.
It did not help. As he whipped me with stroke after stroke on the same place on my back between my shoulder blades, the pain seemed to grow exponentially until just after a handful of strokes I was flailing within the restraints and screaming as loud as I could.
I think he slowed down the pace of the whipping but the pain was so intense that I did not feel any relief. Finally, after what seemed like a couple of dozen strokes, he paused and walked to in front of me. I was still groaning in pain and panting from the exertion of flailing within the restraints and he enjoyed watching me.
He asked another one of those questions “Had enough?”
I managed to respond through my haze of pain “Yes please” and to my surprise he put the whip away and lightly caressed my back with some sort of cool lotion or cream on his hands. I flinched as he touched my back but the lotion was a relief and I gathered that he was being nice to me for whatever reason.
After around 5 minutes of this he let me loose from the restraints and said “You know what time it is, right?”
I had no idea what time it was so I shook my head. He said with glee “Foot-licking time!”
Maybe he was hoping that I would join in and say “Yippee.” Well, actually I was glad for that instead of more torture time.
This time after he removed his shoes and socks, he stretched his bare feet on the bed and told me to lie on my side with my face pressed against the soles of his feet.
He commanded “Now lick all up and down the soles of my feet. Take your time because you are going to be licking my feet for the next hour.”
After this hour he again tortured me and this time it was with hot wax dripping on my chest as I was spread-eagle and slightly tilted backwards by the angle of the restraints. I screamed and cried in pain, he smiled at my agony, and then he had me suck on his toes for another half hour.
And then I finally heard what I had been waiting for when he said “It is time for bed.” He locked the collar on me and left the room.
I was exhausted, not only sleepy but tired from all of the exertion during the torture. I still had a lot of pain in my back from the whipping a couple of hours ago and in my chest from the hot wax burns so it took me awhile to fall asleep.
The next morning before he arrived I checked out any opening I might have or anything I could think of to escape. There was nothing. I thought about balling the chain up around my fist and when he was close I would punch him in the face but I did not think that had any real chance of working. I thought about surprising him by jumping up and wrapping the chain around his throat but again, he could just flick me away to stop that from working.
He entered the room in a workout outfit. He was very cheerful and as he approached he said “Guess what you’re going to be doing.”
I had decided several times that I would need to keep playing along since I wanted him to be as happy as he could be so that he would let his guard down for me to find a way to escape. Or, to be honest, it was because I was a complete coward and was afraid that any barrier I might be to his happiness would risk punishment. As bad as things were for me, I guess they could be worse, he could be torturing me every waking moment. So I did not sulk or resist his playfulness.
There were only two options so I picked the one I dreaded the least and said “Licking your feet?”
“Bingo! Your prize is that I have been working out and my feet are very sweaty. Hurray for you!”
He was teasing me. It was very difficult to not show my disgust but I managed.
He sat in his chair next to the bed, took off his tennis shoes and white socks, and stretched his feet out on the bed just as he had yesterday. He did not have to tell me my role so I lay down on the bed and pressed my face and lips against his bare feet.
His feet were warm and parts of my face momentarily stuck to the soles of his feet due to the sweat. I really didn’t know if I could force my tongue out of my mouth for this so I kept rubbing my face and lips up and down along the soles of his sweaty feet.
He moaned and said “Mmmm, that feels so good, keep doing that” and I was thankful that I did not yet have to lick his feet. I hoped that the sweat from his feet would just rub off on my cheek or evaporate.
After a few minutes he said “Lick my feet. I want you to lick all of the sweat off my feet and between my toes.” He didn’t need to say all of that, he could have just said the first word, but he enjoyed maximizing my humiliation.
By this time my humiliation level was high so it did not take as much effort to push my tongue out of my mouth and press it against the sole of his foot. I then moved my tongue up his foot from near his heel up to the arch and that is when the taste really hit me. I was literally licking the sweat from his foot, and there was plenty of it.
I wanted to rush, just lick all over his feet to be done with it but I knew that was pointless, he wanted me to spend probably another hour licking his feet.
I slowly licked up one sole and then licked the pads and tips of his toes. I was really dreading licking the sweat between his toes but I finally arrived there with my tongue and pressing my lips to his toes I stuck my tongue between his first two toes.
The taste was beyond awful.
I wanted to go to the sink to spit but I knew that I couldn’t and at this time it was difficult to think about how much better this was than torture. I just closed my eyes and tried not to think about anything.
I continued to lick the sweat off one foot and suck his toes until that foot seemed mostly clean and then I went on to the other foot. Once that foot seemed mostly clean I sort of hesitated while still licking his feet, I was hoping he would say that I was done but then I remembered that if I was done we would probably get on to his next item on his agenda and I really didn’t want to be tortured.
So I licked his feet with even more enthusiasm and just hoped that he would stay content to relax in his chair.
He nodded off but I kept licking just as enthusiastically in case he woke up and saw me slacking off. This may have been the most humiliated I had felt up until this point, I was licking his feet with all the enthusiasm I could muster even though he was asleep. I felt like and am a total coward.
After another 5 minutes or so he woke up and smiled to see me still licking his feet.
He said “That is enough for now. Go use the restroom and drink some water, you’ll be spending the next several hours in the restraints.”
Oh good. The enthusiasm I had for the foot licking probably bought me an extra minute of delay of torture, if that. What joy.
At first, when I was restrained spread-eagled, he fed me a bran muffin bite by bite so I wouldn’t starve and then he even fed me some water.
And then the torture began. This time he used a riding crop on my inner thighs and even though he wasn’t hitting very hard, it was excruciating. I was screaming, of course, and flailing after every connection of the crop on the sensitive flesh of my inner thighs.
When he decided I had enough, long after I had started screaming, he did not remove the restraints as he had done after yesterday’s torture sessions. Instead, I was just stuck there trying to bear the pain even though he had stopped whipping me. I was whimpering and not able to put two words together due to the pain and the strength in my legs left me so my body was hanging limp from the wrist restraints. That caused pain in my shoulders and arms so it was less than a minute for me to gather my strength to stand again.
And he just loved sitting in his chair and watching me writhe in pain.
After a while the pain in my thighs receded somewhat and I was able to stop panting and whimpering.
He got up and said “Time for your next adventure.” He brought a small knife from one of the drawers and approached me slowly. I think he was trying to be particularly menacing but the threat of being stabbed and killed was not a threat at all to me, I hoped for it, but I knew he wasn’t going to kill or maim me anyway so this would just be another avenue for giving me intense pain.
He made several small slits along both of my arms enough to draw a little blood from each cut, but not enough to cause more than just a couple of small trickles. Each cut hurt but the pain was bearable. He stepped away and I wondered if I should start screaming to give him the message that this was enough but I knew that he would see through anything fake I tried so I just kept silent. My thighs were still hurting, more than the cuts in my arms. I’m not that crazy about the sight of blood so I was feeling like I might faint soon, which would be a welcome thing.
He returned with a small bottle of a liquid which was opened and he was pressing a cotton ball to the open end. He tipped the bottle on its end to put some of its liquid on the cotton and then turned the bottle right-side up again before he removed the cotton. He was about to dab the cotton on one of my cuts and I wondered if he was trying to soothe me again as he had a couple of times yesterday.
Again I had underestimated what he was doing. The wet cotton against my open cut felt like strong acid as intense pain shot through my entire arm. I did not scream initially as I was shocked with the magnitude of agony but after just a couple of seconds I screamed like there was no tomorrow. My throat was already somewhat raw and after a short time my screaming turned to a hoarse yell and then I passed out from the intense pain.
He woke me up with smelling salts and said “We can’t have that, there’s no point to torture if you just fall asleep” as if he was scolding his child. Or pet.
He proceeded to dab some of the other cuts with the liquid and I was in a universe of agony the entire time, I had no control over my body as it jerked against the restraints and I was not able to pass out. Somehow, I made it through without my head exploding due to the dry screaming and once he stopped dabbing my cuts the pain did not linger nearly as much as the other tortures had.
I was absolutely exhausted from flailing and screaming. I was completely limp and hanging from the wrist restraints, my head was lolling on my chest. I wanted to pass out but I couldn’t, the pain which did linger was enough to keep me awake.
Oh yeah, a lifetime of this, that’s what I wanted. I hated feeling the beating of my heart and I wished it would just stop.
I was so worn out that I felt he had to remove the restraints and let me sleep or let me lick his feet some more. Maybe he would let me sleep and go work out so that I could lick the sweat off his feet. There was no sarcasm this time in my thoughts as I said within myself, I want to sleep and then lick his sweaty feet.
But he did not remove the restraints. He just sat and watched me.
Eventually, the increasing pain from my shoulders and arms of being suspended from the wrist restraints forced me to muster my strength and stand up again, albeit wobbly.
He continued to watch me for another 10 or 15 minutes in my haze of agony and then he went over to the shelves again to pick another instrument of torture. This time it was a bullwhip which wasn’t nearly as big as what you would see in the movies but it was clearly big enough to inflict whatever pain he wanted.
Later, after the whipping of my back with the usual screaming and flailing, I was mostly passed out, still awake but too exhausted to move a muscle. He put my arm around the back of his neck and basically carried me to the bed, locked the collar around my neck, and laid me down to sleep. I slept or was passed out for I don’t know how long and was still out until he woke me up.
It was lunch time. I was not able to rise to sit on the bed until he helped me up. My head was spinning from the pain which wracked my entire body. My back was especially on fire and my inner thighs were pulsating. Once I was in a sitting position I had to take several deep breaths to un-cloud my head.
I wasn’t hungry but I was very weak so I knew that I should eat. I considered not eating so that maybe I could starve to death but I knew that he wouldn’t allow that and I didn’t want to risk angering him.
I had enough of my faculties to think at that point, what could be the harm in angering him? Could there possibly be anything worse than this? Maybe I could anger him into killing me or making a mistake and giving me an opening to escape, either of those would be far preferable to going through this torture. I did not have enough presence, though, to be able to think through the issue fully so I took the safe route and did what I could not to anger him.
Once I had eaten some of the food and was feeling a bit stronger he asked “So what will it be next? I am going to leave it up to you.”
Letting me go would be the obvious answer but it could anger him as could anything I said other than the two choices he meant, torture or foot licking.
I meant it with all of my heart when I said “I would like to lick your feet if that is okay” and I even had a tear in my eye because I wanted it so badly.
He said softly “Yes I would like that.”
Once we were done eating he told me to use the restroom and wash up a bit.
When I returned to the bed he had moved the chair to a somewhat different position, his bare feet were stretched out on the bed as usual but they were at an angle so that his feet were near the foot of the bed and the arm of the chair was near the head of the bed.
He had me lie down with my face in the usual position pressed against his feet, he told me to stretch out on the bed so that my body was closer to him than before. I didn’t question his motive or orders, of course.
As I was licking his feet I felt an unexpected hand on my crotch. I didn’t dare flinch or otherwise react as he stroked my penis in gentle way. I thought oh great, he’s probably going to make me his sexual slave and ass rape me but I also thought that even that would be better than all of the torture he has been putting me through.
But at this time there was no pain, it was humiliating to be licking his feet and to be molested with his hand on my crotch but he was trying to make it feel pleasurable and was not totally unsuccessful. I finally was feeling something on my skin which was not intense pain so I was grateful at least for that.
After a minute or so I became erect. I don’t quite know how it happened but I guess after so much torture … but that explanation seemed like an excuse, I couldn’t really find a reason. I relaxed and tried to enjoy it.
Enjoy is a tricky word. Everything is relative. There is nothing about this situation which could remotely pass for enjoyment but compared to the agony of torture, I enjoyed having my penis caressed while I was licking his feet. It was a strange feeling in itself, I actively enjoyed the feeling of his hand and he could tell this and started stroking me harder. I didn’t dare slow down the licking of his feet so he just kept working me and eventually I achieved orgasm while sucking his toes.
After several seconds of feeling like a beached whale in pain, I felt paper towels wiping my stomach.
He asked “Did you like that?” which was another one of his questions meant to humiliate me. I did feel very humiliated actively participating in being molested while actively sucking his toes but I answered with all sincerity “Yes, I loved it, thank you.”
How could I be saying that? It is so pathetic. But it was true, I loved it and I hoped that it would happen some more. I wanted it much more than torture and I would suffer any humiliation, it didn’t matter. Anything but more torture.
I think he thought of that session as a turning point because he didn’t torture me nearly as often or with as much agony. In the next several days there was agony and plenty of crying but there was much more foot licking and allowing me alone time between those sessions.
I no longer cried with emotional anguish, I guess I was getting used to being his slave and with the torture sessions reduced to only one or two per day it wasn’t completely unbearable. Who am I kidding, it was still terrible.
Before it was bedtime he would always stroke me while I licked his feet and I would always achieve orgasm while sucking his toes. I enjoyed that experience more and more and started to look forward to it during the day. Even though it pained me to admit it to myself, I genuinely enjoyed it and if I were not a prisoner I would still want it. I felt sexually dependent upon him, like I had been brainwashed into having a sexual response whenever I licked his feet. I did not have any other sexual experiences to compare it to.
During the day when I would lick his feet, I would get excited thinking about the evening. I spent a lot of time licking his feet each day so I was hard much of the time and was especially excited when I sucked his toes. I realized that I not only enjoyed the evening but also the daytime.
How could this happen? After days of abuse I guess this was my coping mechanism, making the best out of a horrible situation.
During a meal we talked about it. He said “You seem to be adjusting to your new life.”
I replied “Yes, I am not crying much anymore.”
He laughed and said “I guess that is one gauge to determine happiness. You seem to enjoy the end of the day in particular.”
I said reluctantly but still in my all-truth mode “Yes, I enjoy that a lot.”
He said “That is what I was trying to tell you on your first day here. That I would bend your will so much that you would enjoy licking my feet. Have I been successful?”
I answered “Yes,” I hesitated but I continued “I can honestly say that I enjoy licking your feet.” He seemed to be waiting for me to continue so I said “It turns me on.”
He asked “So licking my feet turns you on?” Even though he knew this to be true just by looking at me during foot licking sessions, he liked to ask these sorts of questions.
I replied “Yes, a whole lot.”
He was beaming, that was his goal and he accomplished it 100%. He said “I would like you to tell me that from time to time, as long as it is the truth.”
I said “It is the truth. I really love licking your feet.”
I was reminded again of the incident which I had referred to earlier in this story. I think I needed to examine the role of that incident and how it interacted with what is going on now.
A few years ago, when I was 26 years old, I learned that I was bi-sexual. There wasn’t really an incident, it was a realization, but I think of it as an incident since it happened suddenly as I was thinking to myself one day. It didn’t change my life because I wasn’t dating at the time or since, but it was a change of how I had thought of myself. At first I was depressed because I felt different from others but later I learned to be comfortable and happy with myself.
And now that I am receiving sexual pleasure from a man every day, I realize that this in itself is not an unpleasant fact. I wish that he was not a sadist and I wish a lot of other things about the situation but being able to find sexual pleasure between the sessions of pain was comforting to me.
I don’t remember feeling such true pleasure before, even when I was having sex with my college girlfriend. That was pleasurable, but nothing like the pleasure of the humiliation of my Master’s toes in my mouth while achieving orgasm. There is no logic to my feeling this way but I didn’t need any.
If I had to spend the rest of my life here, it would not be so bad as long as my Master continued to let me lick his feet.
From this point on I addressed him as Master even though he never told me to. He had mastered me and I was his willing slave. I would still leave if he allowed me to because I wanted to be free and especially to be free of the once-per-day torture sessions, but even that was now uncertain, if he did free me I am not certain that I would want to leave.
He did not free me and I was glad not to be put in that situation of making a decision. He continued to torture me once a day every day, he continued to allow me to lick his feet, and he continued to bring me to orgasm every night. Despite my sincere pleas, he never let me contact the outside world or send a note to my family and at first I really hated that but eventually after several weeks the outside world faded from my thoughts knowing that there was nothing I could do about it.
After a few months of this I decided that I would not leave if my Master allowed me to be free. This wasn’t a big deal because he would never allow or offer me freedom anyway but I realized that I was happy being his foot slave, truly happy.
I am 80 years old now and my Master has been dead for several years. He let me free and gave me money when he became sick and had to go into the hospital. At his funeral I cried more deeply than I had ever cried during any of the early torture sessions.
I wrote this to help me remember all of the initial bad times, to look back on my life and take stock. I did not contribute to society, I did not help the poor or invent anything, I did not make any impression in this world except to my Master.
But I had a very happy life. Completely fulfilling and truly happy. And I would not change anything I went through, not even any of the details expressed in this story.
Word Count = 13,300
See all my stories at http://www.assdisc.com.