Synopsis: I am kidnapped and terrible things are done to me. Codes = M/m, humiliation, sex, 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
In the back corner of my mouth a tooth had been hurting and my dentist said that he would like to pull out my wisdom tooth and pulling out the other three wisdom teeth would be partially covered by insurance so we agreed to have them all removed. I opted for general anesthesia as I would rather not go through the pain, I am a baby when it comes to pain.
A few days later in the chair at the dental office a nurse put me under and that was that.
I expected to awaken in the dentist office but that was not the case. I woke up on a mattress in a small prison cell! There was a light on the ceiling.
I was still very groggy as if in a dream-like state. It felt good so while a part of me was alarmed at the situation I was very mellow.
I slowly pushed myself up from the floor and staggered toward the one side of the room which was not a solid wall, it had vertical bars. On the other side of the bars was a carpeted hallway running left and right but I could not see the ends of the hallway in either direction.
I held onto the bars and tentatively said “Hello?”
There was no answer so I said “Hello?” again with no response. I was still feeling good from the anesthesia so I just sat back down on the mattress and leaned my back against the wall. Besides the mattress, a small sink and a toilet were the only other features in the room. I could not fathom why I was in a prison but I was not ready to start yelling yet.
After several minutes of trying to clear my head I heard a door shut at one end of the hallway outside of my cell and then the dentist showed up on the other side of the bars.
He asked “How are you feeling?”
I was much less groggy and got on my feet. I said “Okay. Why am I here?”
He responded “You needed to be quarantined. I found a very rare virus which could have infected everyone in my office.”
My heart skipped a beat at this. Was I near death? Did I need an operation?
Seeing the reaction on my face he laughed and said “I am just joking, you don’t have a virus.
“Does your head hurt?”
I replied “My head feels fine, why am I here?!”
He said “You aren’t going to like it, are you sure you are ready?” I nodded my head and he continued “You are my prisoner.”
I responded “You’re joking.”
He said “No, it’s the truth” and with the serious tone of his voice I believed him.
I wasn’t sure what to say. It seemed ridiculous but here I was in this prison cell which was designed as a cell, not just some makeshift room.
I said “Why?”
He said “What if you had the opportunity to own someone? You could do whatever you wanted to him and he would have to do everything you told him to do.”
This was ridiculous. Even apart from the morality of kidnapping someone, what on earth would I want owning someone?
I decided that this man was insane. It apparently made complete sense to him to kidnap someone. I needed to tread carefully with what I said as I did not need an insane man to become angry.
I said “If that situation came up I would not want to risk the police finding out about it and I would let him go.” Well, so much for being careful, that hint about the police was much less subtle than I had hoped.
Fortunately, he did not get angry. He chuckled and said “I guess different strokes for different folks.”
He couldn’t possibly get away with this. A cab had dropped me off because I couldn’t drive home while groggy and I had been told that an assistant to the dentist would drive me the few blocks to my apartment. There was no-one who would know today that I was here but people would miss me after a couple of days and eventually they would find out I went to the dentist. People don’t just go missing, do they?
I could not do anything about that now. This man thinks that he owns me so I will need to cope with that until the police come. If he enters the cell, I’m going to punch his head off.
He pulled a chair up to near the bars and said “Would you like to discuss the terms of your captivity or do you need some time to control your anger? If you’re angry you might say something you regret.”
He was right, I was fuming mad. I was still not at full strength from the anesthesia but if I lunged at him I could poke him in the eye at high speed before my elbow was wedged between the bars.
I decided against that approach. In this cell I was going to play his game and wait for an opportunity or maybe just a clearer head.
I said in a neutral tone “I would like to discuss the situation.”
He said “Good. I am going to tell you what your life will be like from now on and you are going to listen.”
Fuck yes I will listen now and kill you when I get a chance.
He continued “Whenever I enter your cell you will be face down on the bed until I shackle your hands behind your back.”
The fuck I will.
“If you do not comply then you will not receive food and I will have other unpleasant methods of convincing you to comply.”
“At least once per day when I take you from this room you will be put through a session of torture.” He paused to let that sink in.
That got my attention.
My anger mostly vanished, replaced by determination that I needed to find a way out.
He asked “What do you think of that?”
I said “Why are you doing this and how do you think you could possibly get away with this?”
He replied “You’re thinking that someone will ask about you and the police will begin an investigation, right?”
I said “Yes” with the tone of voice that this was obvious.
He said “I will tell them that I drove you home and other than being groggy you seemed fine. They will have no reason not to believe me, you could be missing due to dozens of other more likely reasons.
”Do you think that won’t work?”
He wasn’t asking this to work out the details, it was to drive the knife home that no-one is going to be looking for me here.
It worked. There is no reason the police would have not to trust the dentist, they would investigate other possible causes.
My mind withdrew into itself and I was no longer paying any attention to him. There was one word going through my head.
Somehow that seemed much worse than indefinite captivity. Eventually I would escape from captivity but if he tortured me… I could not get that word out of my head.
I think he was saying something when I broke out of my contemplation to interrupt him and coolly ask “What would it take for us to have an amicable relationship?”
I cringed at how ridiculous this sounded but I waited for an answer.
He hesitated a moment and then laughed. He said “This is already a very amicable relationship. Doesn’t it seem amicable to you?”
I didn’t know how to answer that so he continued “I am going to let you think on this, let your anger and confusion settle down, and we will talk again. I will be back in a half hour and we can get down to business.”
He emphasized the word “business” as if it was what he was anticipating and that made me afraid to think of what would happen a half hour from now.
I did not need a half hour to think about my situation but I was glad to wait for the business to begin. I decided to give him everything he wanted no matter what. He had me and he could shoot me, throw poison darts at me, tase me, starve me, or whatever and then torture me into doing anything he wanted anyway. I couldn’t really imagine anything he would tell me that I would not obey because he would torture me into it anyway. This was a horrible situation! I knew that he was not bluffing about the handcuffs, the hunger, and the torture, he would not have set up this whole prison just to mess with my mind. Maybe if I completely submitted, it would hurt less, and maybe I would still be capable of escaping when the opportunity presented itself.
Now that I had agreed to submit completely, there was no more decision for me to make. Maybe no more decision ever in my life. I didn’t mind that, being responsible is overrated anyway. But everything else would be hell. I looked around my cell to see if there was anything I could use to commit suicide if it got to that point, but I didn’t see anything obvious unless maybe I could jump and have my head land on the solid sink but that seemed out of the question.
My nerves were practically jumping out of my body. I tried to calm down but that went nowhere. I was sure that he wanted me to react this way but I had already decided to give him what he wants anyway.
Maybe I was over-reacting. But this couldn’t be some sort of joke and he was a licensed dentist so he was smart in being able to set up his little kidnap plot. I was not over-reacting, this was a very serious situation.
Dreading my future during this half hour was the worst time of my life. But I knew it would probably soon not stay the worst.
He returned to my cell and said “So what have you decided?”
I asked “Decided?”
He replied “Yes, have you decided how you are going to react to this situation?”
I interpreted this to be asking whether I was ready to beg for mercy now. I was very ready.
I looked at him through the bars in my cell and said “I will do everything you say” and waited, hoping for some indication that he would go easy on me. In my heart, I was begging for mercy.
It seemed as though he was not ready for this answer. He paused and said “Are you sure? Wouldn’t you like to try some passive resistance or fighting back or anything?”
I said “No, sir, I will do whatever you want me to do.”
He smiled and was clearly happy about this. “That is great. Very smart. That could save you a lot of pain.”
Yes oh yes, that is what I needed to hear. What could be my last ever decision in life was apparently a good one.
I said “Thank you, sir, I appreciate that.”
He was marveling at my servile manner and clearly enjoying it. He stopped himself, though, and said “I get it. You are trying to get me to lower my guard so you can escape. That’s a really good try, I almost bought into it. But it won’t make any difference. I follow procedures very closely in general and my top priority is to ensure that you never ever escape.”
He continued “Would you like to react to that?” and I replied “No, sir.”
He asked “Why are you calling me sir and acting like my slave?”
I asked “Isn’t that why I am here, sir?”
He replied “Yes, but I didn’t even have to tell you this. I guess that makes you a good slave?”
I said “I hope so, sir” and without warning tears came out of my eyes. I was crying with sadness and humiliation. My life was worth nothing unless I found a way to escape.
My jailor stopped and thought about how he should proceed. He then said “I would like to talk up close with you and you will need to be handcuffed. Also, you won’t need your clothing any more so take off all of your clothes and lie down on the floor on your belly with your hands behind your back.”
I briefly wiped my tears and then completely complied with his command. Taking off all of my clothes was a humiliating experience in the circumstances. It felt as though I was giving up any remnant of humanity to begin my new horrible life. And then obeying his command to lie on my stomach with my hands behind my back seemed like the final straw in my submission.
He unlocked the cell door and proceeded to handcuff my hands behind my back. He then helped me sit up with my back against one wall so that we could talk face-to-face. Tears were still falling down my face.
He said “You are very sensitive. I haven’t laid a hand on you or even really threatened you but here you are crying like a little girl.”
So much for empathy. He was just trying to make me feel worse. I cried a bit harder and had no way to cover my face in shame.
He continued “I guess it’s good practice for you, not that I am 100% sure or anything but I think you may be crying again once or twice” and he smiled.
I was starting to calm down, realizing that I should probably save my crying for when something truly horrible happens. That didn’t make sense but it seemed to make sense at the moment.
My captor lifted my chin with his hand, looked directly into my eyes, and asked “What are you?”
I looked back into his eyes and responded the way he wanted “I am your slave.”
He beamed with joy and said “Ok, that is great. If it makes you feel any better, as long as you obey me, you won’t go hungry, you won’t lack sleep, and I will even give you pain relievers when you need them. It won’t be a picnic for you but my goal is for you to settle in very comfortably to your new role so that eventually you will not even think about leaving.
“I know that seems unlikely, but it will help you to realize that you will be better off emotionally if you get rid of the notion that there is any possibility for escape. You may think now that you need to cling onto this hope and if you lose that hope then you would just go crazy or something, but in reality what should happen is that you become comfortable in your life and it becomes much more acceptable.”
He was trying to comfort me, I think, but a life in which eventually I may learn to find it to be acceptable does not seem like a good life to me. My crying had stopped and I knew that I needed to hold onto my hope of escape for as long as I could, it was really all I had.
He continued “This has been strange, I usually don’t spend nearly this much time talking! But it has been fun. Hasn’t it been fun?”
I responded “Yes, sir, thank you, sir.”
He patted me on the head and said “Good boy. It’s time to have a different type of fun, though.”
He helped me up to my feet and then guided me to walk out of the cell. We walked down the hallway into what was a room with one very clear purpose: torture.
My knees involuntarily buckled and I slowly fell to the ground landing on my side with my hands still cuffed behind my back, the soft carpeting covering the floor saving me from harm.
My captor helped me stand up again and waited to allow me to look at the various devices in the room. I did not want to look. I could not handle too much bad news at once. I sort of mentally blacked out as my head moved from right to left seemingly scanning the room. He guided me towards the center of the room where he attached cushioned shackles to my ankles, the shackles were attached to chains which fastened to the floor to keep my legs spread apart somewhat. He then removed the handcuffs and pulled each of my arms up and to the side to put my wrists in cushioned shackles attached to a chain which went through a loop attached to the ceiling. He then pulled on a chain and my wrists were somewhat pulled further apart and above my head.
I was shackled spread-eagled and naked. I was shaking and whimpering softly in fear. I had never felt this vulnerable or in this much terror in my life.
My captor walked to stand in front of me and lifted his hand towards my face. I flinched and whimpered but he caressed the top of my head and tried to comfort me.
He said “Try to calm down, relax, take slow deep breaths.” Obedient, I tried to slow down my breathing and take deep breaths. I was able to stop whimpering and was able to focus my eyes on his face.
He said “That’s better, I was worried I was losing you already” and he smiled. He continued to brush my hair with his hands and compared to the terror of what was going to occur, I liked the feeling of being a pet.
He asked “Are you okay?” and I responded “Yes, sir.” He said “Good, because I am going to want you to be able to experience this fully.”
I took a deep breath of dread as he walked to a nearby small table and retrieved a cat-o-nine-tails whip. He returned to stand in front of me and showed me the whip to get my reaction. It was what I expected so I had no particular reaction other than the general terror I was feeling.
He said “Tell me your feelings now.”
I said “I am terrified, sir, I am terrified.” Obedient, I wanted to let him know my feelings so I did not hold back as I began to cry again.
I felt like a mess. My life was gone and I had nothing. I had nowhere to escape to ever and so I just bawled and sobbed uncontrollably.
My captor was laughing at me.
Once his laughter subsided, he said “You are completely out of control and I haven’t even hurt you. I love it!” He just watched as I eventually calmed down and stopped crying.
He then asked “How do you feel now?” and had to contain more laughter.
I replied “Depressed.”
He said “Well, that’s one thing about this room, depression quickly goes away because there isn’t time to feel down about yourself. There are usually other things to be concerned with. Except today so far.”
He seemed to be confused about his own actions so far. Apparently he rarely talked with his victims and instead just focused on as much torture as he could. Presumably, he killed all of his previous victims or else they would have reported him to the police. I felt certain that I would welcome death when it came. It is not much to look forward to but it was at least some hope that this nightmare would end someday.
He continued “Let’s change that. I can’t believe we have been here for 10 minutes and your skin is still not red.”
He moved to my side and began to swing the whip so that it stroked my bare back. I was completely tense in bracing for the excruciating agony I was expecting but I only felt a light brush against my skin. He paused a few seconds between whip strokes. There was some force behind the next few blows but it didn’t hurt, the strands of the whip felt like they didn’t have enough weight to deliver much pain.
I was still terrified, though, and flinched in fear with every stroke of the whip.
The pauses between strokes became much shorter and I began to feel pain from the whip. This is what I had been dreading during this entire ordeal, my life transforming into an existence of pain.
The pain increased and I began to involuntarily groan after each blow. My back felt like it was burning and I struggled against the shackles.
But it wasn’t so bad.
It wasn’t so bad. It wasn’t. He had whipped me for at least 20 strokes before stopping. I had lost count during my terror, and the last 10 were painful but it wasn’t so bad.
When he walked to stand in front of me again I wasn’t crying, I wasn’t whimpering, and I wasn’t groaning. He asked “How are you doing?” and I replied “Thank you, sir, I am doing okay.”
He said “Good. I am not sure why that is good” and his face again expressed puzzlement.
He looked at me for several seconds before continuing. He said “Why am I talking to you?” I did not have any sort of answer. He continued “Usually there is no talking at all except begging for mercy. There must be something about you” and he thought some more before seeming to receive an answer. He said “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this but I think you touched a nerve in me with all of your crying and submission. I feel … tingly all over when you show such extreme submission, even without torturing you.
“I love torture, too, though, so don’t feel like you are off the hook.”
His expression indicated that he realized something and he asked “Why are you not crying?”
Now I felt on the spot. He wanted me to cry but I did not want to tell him that there was not enough pain. That was the last thing I would ever want to tell him.
But, shockingly, that is exactly what I said to him. I had conditioned myself, or even brainwashed myself, to obey him completely and to be truthful and I could not give him any sort of half-truth.
I said “There was not enough pain for me to cry.”
He, too, was shocked at my response. His eyes widened and he said “I can’t believe you just said that. What on earth are you thinking? You aren’t trying to goad me, are you?”
I replied quickly “No, sir, I swear that I am not.”
He said “Ok. Explain to me what is going on. Why would you imply to me that you want more pain when earlier you were bawling your eyes out in fear of pain? Do you enjoy pain?”
I said “No, sir, I am completely terrified of pain and terrified of you. I beg you not to cause me pain and I swear I will do 100% everything you say.” That was not an answer to his first question so I continued “It is the honest truth that it was painful to feel you whipping me but it was not strong pain which is why I am not crying, sir.”
He said “Ok. So I guess the surprising thing is that even in these circumstances, you are able to maintain your sense of honesty?”
I said “Yes, sir, more than that, I do not want to lie to you at all. I am afraid that if I lie it would be found out and I would be punished, sir.”
He said “You would be punished. Man, but that’s extreme, ‘there was not enough pain…’? I guess you are saying that this is just another way in which you are showing your submission to me, you are incapable of lying even to save your own skin from more pain?”
I said “Yes, sir, I submit to you completely.”
He apparently just loves when I say these sorts of things. And what he wants, he will get anyway so I may as well give it voluntarily.
I am finding that I get a sort of pleasure in submitting completely to him. No, pleasure is not the right word, satisfaction, solace, I don’t know what it is. Probably fear relief. When I make my captor happy I feel less fear at that moment.
He said “That’s why I am being nice to you. I like you. Keep up the good work!” and he patted my head.
I smiled and said “Thank you, sir.” The eye contact we made at this moment gave me the strangest feeling I ever had, like a warm fuzzy moment in my stomach. I didn’t understand it and am unable to put it into words.
My captor then grabbed the hair at the back of my neck and kissed me full on the mouth. He kept kissing me, fortunately with no tongue, for several seconds and then pulled away and said “I will be back.” He left me feeling very confused.
Ew. That was yecch. I needed to think this through.
But then I thought, why do I need to think about anything? Do I have any sort of decision to make? No. Does anything change based upon my thoughts on the issue? No.
This was a strange feeling. Nothing I think makes any difference anyway so maybe I should just free my mind of any complicated thoughts.
But this does matter. Maybe I can find an opening of escape. My captor prides himself on following procedures so that there is no way for me to escape but if he has confusing feelings for me, then that might make him vulnerable.
There is my hope for salvation. Now I need to focus all of my attention on getting him to provide an opening for me to escape. Every waking moment must be spent on this.
So I do need to think this through. And decisions I make could matter. What a concept.
I need to encourage him to have these feelings for me. Which means there may be a lot of yecch but that is better than torture.
Is it? The whipping he gave me was painful but it was not unbearable. If he tried to express his fondness for me by setting me down on my stomach and…. My body shuddered in the restraints. I could not bear to think about being the recipient of his fondness in that way.
But I could not waver from my purpose. If it meant escape then I would take it in the behind. My body shuddered again.
Let’s move past those thoughts. So I should encourage him to have feelings for me and the best way to do that was to be submissive and cry a lot. I was already doing this, I didn’t need a strategy for that.
Would he want me to return those feelings? I didn’t know. I guess I would have to see how it goes and gauge what he wants at the moment.
I resolved to give him exactly what he wants. Which is no different from what I had already been doing. So much for decision and choice but those didn’t matter, escape is the only thing which mattered.
Eventually he returned. He said “I have been thinking about our situation.” My heart was beating fast.
He brandished a knife in front of my face and he had a very crazy look on his face.
My eyes widened in shock. I felt like my heart stopped entirely but then he said “Just kidding!” and put the knife down on a table.
I was sweating and tried to catch my breath. He was chuckling at his joke and said “I love doing that. That usually gets fear in people, putting a knife in front of their face. It’s ridiculous because they are already imprisoned and tortured by that time so why would a knife make a difference? I guess it’s just a shock to the system, seeing it right in front of their face.
“You have been shackled like that for 30 minutes. Do your shoulders hurt yet?”
I replied “Yes, sir, somewhat, but it is not too bad. Thank you.”
He said “You are welcome. No-one usually complains about shoulder pain because there are usually other pains by that time which are much worse. How does it feel to know that after 30 minutes you have only felt a bit of light whipping so far?”
I replied “It feels great, sir, thank you, I really appreciate it.” I was being completely sincere because I did appreciate that my torture had been light up to this point. I think he sensed my sincerity and did not take any sarcasm from my statements.
He said “You are welcome. In the past several minutes I have been thinking about you and I do like you. You are like someone if I wrote up everything I wanted, it would be you.”
Due to my one hope for salvation, I wanted to maximize his feelings for me so I went all-in.
I said “Thank you, sir, it makes me feel special to be the right one for you.”
He said “Does it really? Do you feel special right now?”
This presented a dilemma for me. Honesty or focus on my one hope for salvation? In the brief moment I had to choose, I realized that honesty fit with my one hope, even when I said honest thoughts which went against what he would expect it seemed to make him realize how completely under his thumb I was.
I replied “Sir, I am confused right now because of the restraints. I have never been restrained like this and I have never been a slave before.”
He said “I hear ya. I don’t imagine that anyone could think clearly when they are in such an unfamiliar situation. Thank you for an honest answer.”
He was thanking me? This felt like progress to me towards my one hope. I said “Thank you, sir, for allowing me to be completely honest with you.”
He said “Always be completely honest” and I replied “Yes, sir, thank you, I promise I will.”
He said “I am going to be honest with you, too. I am not going to torture you as severely as I would others. I don’t want you to lose your faculties.”
I said “Thank you, sir! Thank you thank you thank you.”
He smiled and said “You are welcome. I am going to take you down from there and let you rest in your cell” and I said “Thank you” several more times.
He unshackled my wrists and I hugged myself hard, my arms had been stretched away from my body for so long that it felt like a great relief to finally be able to move them in the other direction. He allowed me this great pleasure for at least 20 seconds and then handcuffed my wrists behind my back before unshackling my ankles.
He led me back to my cell and once I was face down on the floor but before he unlocked my handcuffs I asked him “Sir, would it be okay for me to show you how grateful I am by kissing your feet?”
He said “Yes, you may kiss my feet” and moved in front of me so I could kiss the top of his tennis shoe. I said “Thank you, sir.”
Once he unlocked my handcuffs and left the cell, I was finally alone and not shackled. I lay on the bed and had to fight back any thoughts of my life before, I did not want to cry any more until my captor was around to see and enjoy it. I wanted to focus on pleasing him so that he would eventually let down his guard. I was still naked but that was going to be for as long as I was in captivity so I had no choice but to try to get used to it.
Several minutes later my jailor brought me lunch of a sandwich and raw carrots and broccoli, fitting it through the bars in the cell as I sat on the other side of the room, and I accepted it gratefully. I was even more grateful when he did not stay to try to talk with me.
I was tired from the emotional roller-coaster and took a long nap on the bed in the cell. When I awoke my captor was sitting on a chair outside of the cell apparently simply watching me. He did not have a book or computer in his hand so I found it creepy that he was watching me unless he just got there and hadn’t yet said something to wake me up. Then again, creepy could be good, it could lead him to let his guard down.
As I rose from the bed I said “Hello, sir” and he said “Hello. I don’t want you to call me sir any more.” He paused for my reaction.
I said “Yes, okay.”
He then said “You need to address me as Master” and I said “Yes, Master, thank you for clarifying, Master.” He replied “You are welcome.”
He said “I want to talk with you some more in your cell so lay down on your stomach.”
I assumed the position, and was relieved when it was not for a different purpose, and he handcuffed my hands behind my back and helped me to sit with my back to the wall.
He drew closer to me and, being naked, I felt even more uncomfortable but tried not to show it. He said “I am going to touch you” but then he sat back and explained “I have never been attracted to men except to hear them scream but there is something different about you. It’s clear to me that I have feelings for you which I need to explore. Considering that you are my slave, I don’t need for your opinion on this but I wanted to let you know that I have never done this sort of thing before.”
As uncomfortable and repulsed as I was, I wanted to encourage him as much as possible as I focused on my hope of eventual escape. I said “Master, please do whatever you want to me. If you want to explore whatever you want ….” I stopped because my words led into an area I did not want him to explore at all and my face turned red. I mumbled “I am sorry, Master.”
He smiled and, patting me on the head, said “It’s okay to be uncomfortable. This isn’t exactly a standard situation. I am going to explore. I want you to close your eyes and keep them closed as I touch your entire body. Just relax.”
I closed my eyes and he proceeded to move his hand from patting me on the top of my head to caress my cheek and then he ran his fingers along my lips. I felt like shuddering in disgust but kept still as he moved his hand to the front of my neck grabbing me in a gentle choke hold and quickly releasing it. His hand slowly moved to feel my chest and my pectoral muscles, swirling his hand around for a while.
As he moved his hand down my body he thankfully skipped my private parts and I was very thankful. I kept my eyes closed per her instructions. After maybe 10 minutes, when he was done playing with my toes, he moved his hand to my penis and just gently felt around.
It wasn’t an unpleasant sensation and I wanted him to continue as I kept focus on my hope of escape. He played with my penis for a couple of minutes and I heard the sound of him touching himself and after a couple more minutes he achieved orgasm. He stopped touching me and after a moment said “Open your eyes.”
There was nothing different from his appearance and I figured he was trying to hide what he had done.
He said “I enjoyed that. I am going to leave your handcuffs on and I will be back in an hour to do that again.”
I said “Yes, Master” and he left.
I guessed that this would be my life for a while, being his sexual plaything seemed better than being his whipping boy. Just having him touch me while I was handcuffed did not give me hope for escape so I wanted to find a way to adjust our activities.
I sat and waited an hour for my Master to return.
When he returned to my cell he sat down next to me again and I said “Master, is there anything I may do for you?” I tried to sound as eager as I could.
He said “What do you have in mind?”
I replied “Master, I am your slave and I would like to please you any way you want. Is there anything you can think of, Master, which would please you?”
He thought about it and said “Well, I liked what I did last time but maybe there is something you can do.” He though further and said “I really enjoyed it when you kissed my foot. Actually, I got hard when you did that. You seemed so eager to kiss my foot that I felt like I was on top of the world.”
I said “You are on top of the world, Master, and it would be my pleasure to kiss your feet as much as you want.”
I was feeling very humiliated by this but I focused on my hope of escape.
I continued “Master, if you would like to take off your shoes and socks, it would be my honor to worship your bare feet.”
He said “Oh my, that is about the hottest thing I have ever heard. Say that again. Tell me what you would do.”
It seemed as though I had hit a nerve and I was going to try to maximize it. I said “Master, I would like to kiss the tops of your bare feet 20 times each, and then I would lick each foot from your toes to your ankles.”
At this point he reached inside his pants and began to play with his hardening member.
I felt like throwing up but I managed to hide my disgust.
He wanted me to continue so I said “Then, Master, I would beg you to lift your foot and I would lick the sole of your foot from your heel up to your toes. I would suck your toes and lick in between your toes.”
My captor was clearly enjoying himself at my expense and when I said “between” he climaxed. I managed to look away and was able to just keep quiet as he finished.
He stood up and said “Wow,” then he left the cell.
I had failed again to get him to remove the handcuffs but I felt like next time he would want me to actually do what I said I would do. I decided to focus on trying to withstand having to lick his feet and I closed my eyes to visualize it. It was horrible just thinking about it, I didn’t know how I could go through with it but I knew I would have to.
He returned after just 10 minutes to put me on my stomach and remove my handcuffs, and then leave me in the cell letting me know that we were done for the day and he would be back with food later.
The rest of the day was uneventful. I tried to take a nap before the next meal but I was haunted by thoughts of having to lick his feet and I couldn’t sleep. I had two meals and then he said good night. I could not tell the time except by what my captor told me.
Boredom was a form of torture for me this day. Being my captor’s sexual plaything at times was bad enough but having nothing at all to do all day but think about my predicament was just painful. I decided that tomorrow I would ask him nicely for a book or anything to do.
I eventually slept okay and my captor woke me up as he was approaching the cell with a small breakfast. As I ate he asked me “How was your evening?”
I replied “It was okay, Master, thank you for asking, Master. Is there any way that I could have a book to read or a magazine please Master?”
He chuckled. “Yes, that shouldn’t be a problem. I guess I’ve never thought of how boring it would be in a cell for a long time. Most of the previous occupants were in too much pain to be bored. One time this guy after several days would just croon while begging for mercy and he seemed to do that all night even when I was not nearby. I eventually showed him mercy.”
I understood what that meant. Death would be better than a life of torture or a life of being a sexual plaything but I still held onto my hope of escape.
He asked me for a list of books or magazines I would want and agreed to bring all of them. I had finished eating so he removed the tray from under the bars and told me that he would be back in a half hour. This all seemed so casual for him, as if having a slave was a natural part of his existence. I’m sure he hoped that it would be natural for me, too, but there was no way that was going to happen.
Later, after I had lain on my stomach for him to apply the handcuffs, he sat me up to face him for another session of his fun.
He said “Yesterday was the most fun I have ever had. And once you actually start doing the things you said you would do, I think I’m just going to explode right away. Are you going to be able to do those things without gagging in disgust?”
I responded “Yes, Master, I want you to be happy and I want to serve you, Master.”
This was sort of like a game. I tried to think of ways to make him feel good so that my hope of escape could remain alive. Drop your guard, Master. I didn’t think it would happen anytime soon, maybe in a few days of convincing him that I was completely under his thumb, or foot.
He flashed that smile he gives when my subservience pleases him.
He said “Okay, here goes” and he guided me to lie on my side with my head on the ground facing him.
He removed one shoe and then gently placed his socked foot in my face so that the ball of his foot was against my mouth and his toes were resting against my nose. I managed to keep a neutral expression on my face as I inhaled through my nose the smell of his socked foot. The smell wasn’t strong but it was definitely the smell of a foot.
To fit what I knew were his wishes, I made sure he heard me take a deep whiff of his socked foot a few times. He chuckled in happiness and then pressed his foot harder against my mouth and nose, rubbing it in my face to increase the humiliation.
He removed his other shoe and pressed both of his socked feet against my face, rubbing them all over my face. He was laughing like a kid who found a new toy and I felt like dirt.
It would get worse. He removed his socks and pressed his bare feet against my face. His feet were a bit sweaty and I could feel the damp spots on my face. I was starting to feel sick but I knew that the worst hadn’t begun.
My captor pushed his big toe into my mouth and I did not resist. This was a moment of truth for me, I needed to get through this experience without gagging because I wanted him to think that I wanted to do this for his pleasure. But it was very difficult. My natural reaction was to keep my tongue as much away from his toe as possible but I forced my tongue forward to make contact with his toe.
After a few seconds I managed to go all the way and suck on his big toe. The taste was beyond awful and I almost gagged initially but I managed to spend the next couple of minutes just sucking on whatever toes he put in my mouth.
My captor was clearly in heaven, very excited about having his slave suck and lick his sweaty toes. He quickly brought himself to a moaning climax and then wiped himself with a paper towel. That was good for me because he removed his feet from my face after just a few minutes of the extreme humiliation.
He patted me on the head, removed my handcuffs, and left me face down on the floor as I tried to bury my face in humiliation. Once he left I got on the bed and cried and sobbed into the pillow. There was no way in the world I could take much more of this.
But I had no choice.
Every couple of hours he came into the cell for another session of foot licking and toe sucking. During the fourth session he said things to increase my humiliation.
As I was licking the sole of his foot like it was a lollipop he said “I’ll bet you’re getting used to the taste of my foot. My feet are your best friend, you love licking my bare feet, don’t you?” to which I replied “Yes, Master.” He continued “Lick the sweat from between my toes foot boy, hahaha, that is your new home now, between my toes.”
I tried not to let his taunts get to me but I could not help it as tears ran down my face. He liked this a whole lot and it helped him to a bigger climax as he touched himself.
After the fourth session he told me that this was the last session for the day and he would be back tomorrow. He left several of the magazines I had requested but I did not pay attention to those, I just buried my face in the pillow and cried myself to sleep.
I woke up with the taste of my captor’s feet still strong in my mouth. I wanted to blot out the memory of yesterday but all I could think about was voluntarily licking my Master’s feet. I had licked his feet and sucked his toes over and over again. I was sure that I would have to do that every day until he tired of me, if ever.
And the real crushing thing was that I was no closer to my hope of freedom. He had kept the handcuffs on me while I was licking his feet. I needed to think of some activity which would require him to let my hands free. But if we discussed it he would probably just shackle my ankles together so I needed to bring it up during the heat of the moment while he was almost ready to climax.
So I devised a plan. While I was sucking his toes and he was getting close I would ask him if I could touch him to pleasure him.
The next morning after he had provided breakfast to me we had another foot licking session. I wanted him to be hot and bothered so I concentrated on licking between each toe and he enjoyed that a whole lot. Then I said “Master, may I touch you to pleasure you please?”
That surprised him and he said “Hmmm, no but maybe next time, that way I will put handcuffs on your ankles so you could use your hands.” I was crestfallen, next not only did I have to touch him but I would still be restrained. As I was sucking his toes some more I started crying again.
For our next foot licking session a couple of hours later he put the handcuffs on my ankles and had me fondle him while I sucked his toes. It wasn’t as bad as I had thought it would be, having to lick feet was still the worst part and he used his own hands to finish himself off.
Afterwards I wondered if this was really better than physical torture. By this time I no longer felt much like a human being, I was a sexual plaything and foot boy. It didn’t seem as though things could get worse but they did.
Before our next session my Master cuffed my ankles together while my hands were free again but this time had me lie on my back as he sat in a chair above me. He told me that he had been working out and rubbed his socked feet all over my face, his socks had a strong odor from his workout.
Then he removed his socks and caressed my face with his sweaty bare feet. I would never get used to this, his bare feet on my face always caused extreme humiliation for me. And, inevitably, my Master commanded me to stick out my tongue to lick the sweat from his feet and I obeyed. My mouth quickly filled with strong foot flavor and I had to concentrate to keep from gagging.
Next, he commanded me to do something which I balked at initially. He said “Touch yourself to pleasure yourself.”
What? I hadn’t realized that the level of humiliation could increase but it jumped another notch. I was thankful that my Master was merciful in not punishing me for my hesitation. I touched myself but I was not going to get any sort of response with his sweaty feet pressed against my face and tongue.
He said with glee “We are going to be doing this until you climax so have fun!”
I decided that physical torture would be preferable to this. I can’t take this any more. I just can’t.
I tried to relax and not rush the process of touching myself because I wanted success. I thought about disobeying but knew that I would only get tortured and then have to go through this humiliation anyway.
I tried to envision green grass, a swimming pool, or a snowy mountain but every facet of my being was filled with the feel and taste of his sweaty bare feet. It took me several minutes of touching myself to get any reaction, several minutes of having to lick his feet, but I did manage it and then after several more minutes I was getting close to climax.
My Master decided to humiliate me further with words “You love the taste of my sweaty bare feet. Lick my feet and in between my toes.” I was getting closer to climax as he continued. “I just worked out and you are licking the sweat between my toes. You are a foot boy!” and at that moment I climaxed.
This was the most unusual moment in my life. As I got closer to climax with all of my senses inundated with the humiliation of his bare feet, it felt like a moment of clarity. There was nothing in the universe but his feet and my impending climax. It felt as though I was no longer in the cell, no longer on Earth, just existing in a separate dimension for a few seconds. And then I had by far the biggest climax I had ever experienced.
For several seconds afterward I was completely gone, there was no cell, no Master, no feet in my face, no humiliation, no anything, just tranquility. Now that I had stopped licking he gently caressed my face with his feet and that brought me somewhat back to reality but I did not mind, I felt at peace.
After another 30 seconds I began to feel humiliated again and he handed me a couple of paper towels. I felt split into two persons, the main part of me was at peace with what I had been through and everything leading up to that but I knew that there would be hell to pay within my emotions. I felt that the normal part of me would never be able to handle having succumbed to such an experience and I felt that I would probably cry for weeks.
Thankfully, my Master did not discuss what had just happened or stay long.
The feeling of peace and contentment stayed with me even though I also had a feeling of strong revulsion at what I had just been through. I not only suffered through an experience which was perpetrated on me, but I enjoyed it. I realized now that I actively enjoyed touching myself while licking the sweat from my Master’s bare feet.
How could that occur? Was it just because near the moment of climax I am susceptible to different emotions? Surely people can’t be made to enjoy something just because it is presented to them near the moment of climax.
It seemed more than just a sort of brainwashing. After this experience I found myself thinking about his feet. It was very painful to admit to myself that I was looking forward to our next foot licking session and I cried at the realization because I was so torn up inside about it.
My Master returned as I was crying into the pillow. After he handcuffed my wrists behind my back he said “I could see how painful it is for you. Let’s do something different. I’m going to take you back to the torture chamber.”
He helped me up and we walked into the torture chamber. A part of me dreaded the end of this walk and my knees almost did not stay strong but another part of me felt that this was better than the soul-crushing humiliation of succumbing to his bare feet. I started crying again as he shackled my wrists and ankles spread-eagled.
He said “Stop crying” so I did. “This time I am going to give you something to cry about.”
My Master picked up a cat-o-nine-tails whip which was slightly different from the one he used on me earlier. I didn’t notice any specific features about it but it was black while the other one was brown.
He started whipping my back between the shoulder blades and it hurt right away. This was a heavier whip or maybe not heavier but it had a different construction giving the blows more velocity. Or maybe the strands had a different shape. Whatever it was, after just a few blows the whipping began to hurt like hell.
He kept whipping my back between the shoulder blades and each blow felt like fire. After several blows my involuntary groans turned into a scream and my entire body was flailing uncontrollably against the restraints.
The whip strokes moved down to my butt which quickly began to sting. After several painful strokes my butt felt as though it was electrified and I was screaming in agony. My screaming did not stop the whip which kept on blow after blow. Unlike the fire of the whip on my back, the strokes on my behind did not cause me any sort of momentary black out. I was completely aware of each stroke of the whip on my butt.
My screams were becoming hoarse as the whipping finally stopped. At this point I did black out for a few seconds and found my Master standing in front of me smiling at my pain.
He kissed my mouth again and this time used tongue but I was too out of it and in pain to have feelings of humiliation or anything else at this. As he kissed me he pressed his groin against mine but still I was numb to this and was focused on the immense pain of my back and butt. Even as he jacked off on me while still kissing me I didn’t give a damn.
The fire in my back and electricity feeling in my behind seemed to be getting worse. I wanted in the worst way to just press my hand on my skin to soothe it or jump in a pool of cool water but I was shacked spread-eagled. I didn’t pay attention as my Master wiped off my stomach but when he finally unshackled my hands I immediately bent down and reached around to gently caress my butt until he handcuffed my wrists behind my back.
I was emotionally numb until later in my cell I began to think more about my situation. I didn’t want to think, though, I just wanted to kill myself but I did not see any way to do that so I collapsed face down on the bed and tried to pass out.
Unfortunately, my mind would not let me pass out. Licking my Master’s feet was infinitely more tolerable than being whipped like that. I had kept telling myself that I couldn’t take any more feet but I really couldn’t take any more whipping. I felt that I would go insane if I had to suffer a lot more whipping. Maybe I was insane already. My back still hurt a lot and he did not give me any aspirin like he told me he would.
I eventually did pass out or fall asleep.
When I awoke there was food on a tray for me in the cell so I ate and then gave myself a sort of sponge bath near the sink, being careful on my tender back and behind.
My hope of escape seemed like a pipe dream at this point. My Master was very thorough and aware not to give me any time when my hands and feet were free. He had stated with certainty from the beginning that I would not be leaving here alive and judging by how much he seemed to like having me here I would not be dying any time soon.
Now I felt that I was really at the lowest point of this ordeal and of my life. It could not get any worse.
It didn’t get worse.
I went back to my previous way of thinking which was to please my Master as much as possible with licking his feet because torture was unthinkably horrible. Foot licking was horrible, too.
Or was it? There were those few moments of pleasure and peace. As I recalled those moments at this time, I experienced an erection. Am I Pavlov’s dog now?
I didn’t have any choice about whether or not I would experience those pleasurable moments but at least it was something to hope for.
This hope would come true. My Master experienced great pleasure at humiliating me with his bare feet and watching me be forced to climax.
For the next foot licking session my Master video taped me as I licked his bare feet and brought myself to climax. Just as the moment was approaching he commanded me to yell out “I love licking your bare feet my Lord and Master!” and with the camera taping I had another large climax similar to last time, with even more of a feeling of extreme humiliation leading somehow to peace.
After this second special session I realized that these moments just before, during, and after climax were the most intensely pleasurable moments of my life. These moments would not make up for all of the humiliation, pain, and loss of self of my confinement but they gave me something to look forward to.
I felt very dirty and perverted for getting pleasure under my Master’s feet but I had no choice in things and could only do what my Master tells me. In that way, it was good to have a Master to assign guilt to for my feeling this way.
Before our next session my Master wanted to talk with me. He said “Tell me what you are feeling. The truth, all of it.”
I knew that he did not want a short answer and I still had the firm mindset of not wanting to lie or mislead. I said “Master, I enjoyed the last couple of times I licked your feet.” I tried not to blush but I think I did. “Thank you Master.” He waited for me to continue.
“I am very afraid of you, Master, and I hope with all of my heart that you will show me mercy. I swear, Master, that I would do whatever you wanted me to and I beg for no more torture, please Master.” He waited for me to continue.
I had said all that I meant to say but I tried to find more words. “I hope that you are enjoying when I lick your feet, Master.”
I felt very pathetic. Not only was I honestly saying that I enjoyed licking his feet but that I wanted him to enjoy it. Where was any sense of self-worth or pride? I was reduced to a groveling slave for the rest of my life.
He said “What else?”
I hesitantly said “Master, I don’t know what you mean, I will tell you anything you want, Master.”
He said “What do you think about your torture session?”
I replied “Master, it was by far the worst experience of my life. I was in so much pain.” I had tears in my eyes from the memory.
He said “How about afterwards?”
I said “Master, do you mean back in my cell?”
He paused and looked at me with disappointment in his eyes. I became afraid, I was missing what he was saying and I hoped that he did not get angry.
I said “I’m sorry, Master, I’m sorry” and tears rolled down my face.
He said “Do you remember what happened right after I stopped whipping you and before I unshackled you?”
I did remember now. He had kissed me and pleasured himself. As humiliating as that might seem, it did not make an emotional impression on me even now.
I replied “Yes, Master, you kissed me and touched yourself. I was very glad that you did that, Master.”
He said “You were glad? Why?”
I replied “Master, because I want you to be happy all of the time.”
That satisfied him. He gently cupped my chin in his hand and said “You do make me happy all of the time. These past few days have been the best days of my life and I have you to thank for that.”
I felt very warm as he said this. I was relieved that he was not angry and glad that he might want to treat me with mercy but there was something more to my emotion. I made him happy. I made my Master happy. I had never made anyone particularly happy before that I know of and it felt good.
I realized that lowering one’s self to the level of dirt in order to make one’s Master happy was not exactly a standard life goal and making myself happy was not even in the picture but in some strange way it made me feel good to make my Master happy.
After all that I had been through, I realized that there was some brainwashing going on but it was better to feel good than bad.
He was continuing “I am not going to lie to you and tell you that you are ever going to be happy or even that I am going to try to do that, but I am going to avoid torturing you as much as possible so that you can focus all of your effort on continuing to make me deliriously happy.”
He leaned forward to kiss me on the mouth and that gave me a quick jumble of emotions. I realized right away, though, that as with all of the other times during my captivity I had no choices to make so I chose the emotion which was most favorable at this moment and that was to enjoy the warmth of his fondness for me, setting aside all of the revulsion and humiliation I was feeling.
He kissed me and I kissed him back. With my wrists handcuffed behind my back I could not do much but he moved to press his entire body against me as we kissed and with his hands brought himself to climax.
A few minutes later, after he had wiped off my stomach and laid my head to rest against his shoulder with his arms around my shoulder, he said “You are really a special guy. I love having you here.” I said “Thank you, Master.”
Several minutes of quiet later, he kissed the top of my head and after removing the handcuffs left the cell, saying that he would bring dinner and then leave me alone for the rest of the evening.
That gave me time to take stock of my emotions. He seemed to be falling in love with me and I had to admit that a part of me felt good about making him very happy. I no longer felt horror at the humiliation of my situation, I did feel humiliated and imagined that it would feel great to not have to feel so violated but it wasn’t nearly as bad as I would have thought. I was his foot slave and sexual plaything but those thoughts did not bother me much any more.
I was getting used to my role as slave. Maybe even liking it.
I had clearly been brainwashed, maybe by myself, because the reality is that I did not like being a slave, it was just much better than being a whipping boy and those were the only two possibilities. So in that small realm of two realities, I loved being a slave.
Over the next few days we settled into a routine in which I would lick his feet 4 or 5 times a day and after half of those either he or I would climax or sometimes both and once a day he would press his body against my body as he kissed me on the mouth. He was giddy during every session and I felt that same unusual gladness at his happiness.
My mood remained okay and I did not fall into the same depressions of the first day or two. I had enough reading material to keep my mind occupied during my time alone and I did pushups and sit-ups to keep myself active but I looked forward to the foot licking sessions and especially the ones which ended with a great sense of pleasure and peace.
In fact, I felt peace at all times now. I never felt as though my Master was going to whip me any more and there was no fear of anything else bad happening.
I still felt strong negative feelings about losing my former life. It was an okay life. The strong feelings dissipated when I realized that I never had much of a sense of peace about myself until this cell. And I never had much of a sense of purpose until this cell.
This new life as a slave was not so bad.
Over the next few weeks my Master and I would sometimes talk about life in general and life philosophies. It was still very clearly a Master and slave relationship but it increased my sense of feeling human again and it felt good. My Master was a very interesting person with a lot of admirable traits, other than kidnapping and torturing people before me, and he clearly enjoyed my company which felt good.
I know that those in captivity sometimes feel affection for their captors and I was sure that my feelings for my Master were greatly affected by this but I did not have any choice in it, I began to like my Master and to feel affection for him.
And then my rescue party finally arrived.
My Master was led towards my cell by 3 police officers who told him to open the cage. Suddenly, for the first time in several weeks my hands and feet were free and my cell door was open.
In the cell and seeing me naked a police officer asked if I was okay and told another officer to go back upstairs and fetch some clothing. I had not worn clothes in several weeks and could not even think about what it would be like.
I responded “Yes, I am fine, what is going on here?”
The police officer responded “We are here to set you free, he can’t harm you ever again.”
He seemed to be trying to comfort me with his words but they jarred into my reality. I would be freed? I was sure that I had been fired by now from my job for not showing up and I was probably expelled from my apartment. Maybe I was pronounced dead or missing. What would I live on? I guess my parents could take me in for a while but that didn’t seem fun.
More importantly, what would happen to my Master? We would have no more sessions and no more happy endings? There would be no more affection and no more talks? How would I get my life back together?
I said “He hasn’t harmed me.”
The officer looked at me and said “You were a prisoner here, right?”
I lied. For the first time in several weeks I lied and it felt natural. I tell the truth to the one I love and lie to protect him. I said “No, I was here because I wanted to be here.”
Another officer said “What the hell. You have been gone for 6 weeks and you didn’t tell anyone? Has he brainwashed you or something?”
I said “No, he and I are lovers. Is that a problem?”
The second officer replied “Yes, when you don’t tell anyone and we spend weeks trying to find you.”
The third officer returned with clothes but I didn’t accept them and remained naked, clearly defiant to the authorities in the room.
The first officer said “Okay, if that’s the way you want it then fine, but you need to contact your parents and your apartment landlord plus you can expect a bill from the police department for our weeks of work.”
The second officer said “I still think he has been brainwashed.”
I said “No. I want to be here and you can’t make us leave.” I went over to my Master and put my arm around his shoulders. He was silent this whole time, surprised at my reaction and fearful of the police.
The first officer said “Let’s leave these two lovebirds alone. I am sure that your parents will be here soon. They won’t believe what I tell them.”
My Master escorted the police back upstairs and out. He gave me a sheepish grin as he thought about closing the cell but he left it open.
An hour later I wrapped a blanket around myself as my parents were escorted into the cell by my Master. We had a long conversation including many apologies, awkward explanations, some yelling by them, and then acceptance or at least resignation.
My Master said that he would pay for any inconvenience they had to go through to move the stuff out of my former apartment and he would pay if the police sent a bill for the missing person investigation. When my parents wanted me to send an e-mail every day we compromised that I would write a letter every week and I would read whatever they wanted to mail me; and they would have my Master’s phone number in case of an emergency. My Master promised to support me financially for whatever I needed and eventually my parents left.
Once that was over My Master looked at me with awe in his eyes and told me he was thankful I was his slave. I responded by lying face down on the bed with my hands behind my back ready to be handcuffed. It was the last time I would have my hands and feet free while the cell door was open.
I had made one last big decision in my life and was now free from the burden of decisions. My life was dedicated to my Master’s happiness and with that success I would be happy for a very long time.
Word Count = 12,300
See all my stories at http://www.assdisc.com.