Willing Slave
By @Ted_Subby on FetLife, e-mail address nrjb2@yahoo.com.
Synopsis: I consent to sell my freedom for the life of my daughter. As a slave I am treated much more cruelly than I expected. Codes = M/m, MF/m, torture, humiliation, feet, reluctant.
Copyright © Ted Underfoot
This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.5/ or send a letter to:
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171 Second Street, Suite 300
San Francisco, California 94105
USA
Seven years ago today was my first day as a slave.
I never would have dreamed that my life would turn out that way. I was married to a wonderful wife Lily and we had a beautiful 15-year-old daughter Megan.
Our disastrous year began when I lost my job as a Data Entry Supervisor for a large insurance company. I was never much of a career man but the job put food on the table and a roof over our heads. Megan had difficulties from birth and my wife had to quit her job to take care of Megan, it has always been stressful for Lily but she bore it well, she was an amazing woman.
I spent months searching for another job but the state of the economy was not good and my resume somewhat limited as I had not gone to college so that I could focus on our marriage. We were in danger of losing the house when Lily suddenly became very ill, probably due to all of the stress. It still hurts me to think of this but she died.
At the same time Megan’s situation turned worse and our doctors found that she has a rare condition. She was given only 4-6 months to live. A new stem cell organ replacement technique was identified as having a decent chance of success but this is only certified in another country and not covered by my insurance. The cost of this surgery and treatment is a bit over 2 million dollars and I had no way of financing this.
I asked around with my parents and Lily’s family but there is no way for us to come close to having enough money for the procedure. We thought about starting some sort of internet donation fund but 2 million is too much to try to obtain. I e-mailed several news agencies to see if at least they would publish a story about it and maybe I would get lucky to find someone to help but they didn’t even want the story since there was nothing political about it and I am not rich that people would care particularly about my story.
During our search for a solution to this, I received an interesting and unusual proposal. A very wealthy person in the country where the surgery is performed offered to pay for every aspect of the procedure in return for making me a slave for 5 years. The e-mail I received assured me that the slave contract would be legally binding and they would even pay for me to hire a lawyer of my choice to review the contract.
This situation was unbelievable to me. How could slavery be legal anywhere?
I began a long process of research on the internet. I found dozens of web sites about “BDSM” slavery in which the slavery is consensual. At first I figured it was a way for people to play with each other in a sexual way but then I found that for many of these people it was a way of life and not always sexual. There are people who own willing slaves to do their housework, for example. And most of these slaves get no pay for their work. This BDSM situation did not apply to me.
Looking further into the subject of modern-day slavery I found an interesting view from a freedom-focused political group in which they believe that slavery should be legal. It was confusing to me because freedom and slavery seem contradictory but this group feels that it should be someone’s right to voluntarily barter their freedom and the example they used was to cure a sick child a parent should be able to sell himself into slavery to afford the surgery. In a large majority of “free world” countries this is not allowed because as soon as the slave complains to the authorities, the contract would no longer be valid. Consequently, a parent with a sick child would never be able to sell himself into slavery since no prospective slave owner would ever agree to pay a large amount of money for such faux slavery.
I contacted the political group and they wanted to be kept updated on it but they could not offer any help other than using me as an example to further their cause of “freedom”.
I found it ironic that I was in the situation described by this political party.
I learned that there is a country in which this sort of slavery is legal. I was not able to find any examples but there are several studies from that country showing that a slave contract freely signed and witnessed in that country would be legally binding, if worded appropriately and as long as the slave is not commanded to do anything otherwise illegal within the local jurisdiction such as committing murder.
Part of me was glad to have some sort of avenue in which my daughter could be saved but another part of me was sick to my stomach.
I would gladly give my life for Megan. If we could switch places, I would gladly accept her condition and die within a few months. However, I had to think about whether or not I would sell myself into slavery.
I worked with the wealthy person’s representative to understand the details further. I was to refer to the wealthy person as Madam at all times, I was surprised to learn that it was a woman and wondered if there would be a sexual component to my slavery. My daughter’s treatment would require two weeks before the initial results would be known and for the last week of that I would be required to travel at Madam’s expense and housed in a guest room of Madam’s estate while staying in contact with local police representatives to ensure that I was not mistreated. If my daughter’s treatment was a success then my 5 years of slavery would begin but if not, then I would be free to go home and there would be no cost to me. If my daughter died at any time in the 5 years then I would be freed. Megan would need to go through periodic follow-up treatments.
Once I became a slave, I would have no rights other than the right to live. In addition, once I was released in 5 years I would be guaranteed to be healthy and not meaningfully harmed in any physical way. This was to be written in great detail into the contract. I felt good about this provision since legally the contract did not need this as I could have agreed to be mutilated. Fortunately, I would not have to make that decision.
And maybe the inclusion of this provision showed some mercy. I could only hope.
When I asked what sort of tasks I would be assigned I was told that I would be given no details beforehand. I would need to accept slavery without any preconceived notions.
I was given a choice between hell and hell. I could not let Megan die, I simply could not. But I could not be a slave, could I?
I spent the next several days performing more internet research, day and night. How do those BDSM slaves handle 24/7 slavery? They want it so the situation is not at all the same as mine but maybe if I could understand them it could help me.
I joined a few BDSM web site forums and found slaves and Masters to give me advice. In fact, they were some of the nicest people I have ever met. A few of them spent hours and hours with me on instant messaging and e-mail helping me understand their lifestyle in trying to help me anticipate what life as a slave would be like.
Even in the consensual world of BDSM slavery, there are many activities which are truly horrifying to me. How could I possibly be able to take having these tortures inflicted on me? Pain I never even thought of could be inflicted on me and just looking at pictures of the devices used almost made me sick.
A couple of the slaves I chatted with tried to help me understand how they withstand having terrible things done to them. They helped me understand that in their cases they truly hate suffering some of these tortures but they make it through by holding onto the reasons they became a slave in the first place, which differed depending upon the person, in one case it was deep and intense love while the other slave had a deep-seated need to be a slave. Both would be willing to suffer just about anything, but there were still limits. In my case, I would need to hold onto the knowledge that my huge sacrifice enabled Megan to live and lead a somewhat normal life, under the care of my mother and father who I believe would agree to take her in.
I took my research a step further as a Mistress/Wife and slave/husband agreed to treat me as a willing slave for an evening. I was very nervous and squeamish at first but they helped me loosen up so that I could really understand the situation, or at least the potential horrors. After a few false starts of whipping in which I stopped it after just a few blows, I asked them to tie me down and not stop until I said the safe word.
We progressed through several BDSM consensual torture scenarios hoping to give me some information about my own tolerances and I assured them that they should push me as hard as they can up until I said the safe word, which became increasingly later in the torture scene.
They helped me with encouraging words but the final result was that I could not take much torture at all, BDSM slaves typically have years of wanting to be a slave and many of them probably have years of buildup of their pain tolerance while I had none of that.
I decided not to accept Madam’s offer and just enjoy Megan’s last time on this earth but I waited a few days before letting her representative know. In that time I had a change of heart. Slavery would probably be truly horrible and I could not take it, I might go insane or suffer some other permanent damage.
But I could not let Megan die. I simply couldn’t.
I spent the next day crying. I don’t care whether or not I live or die as long as Megan lives but I just can’t go through torture for a few weeks let alone 5 years. But I will have to.
I discussed the issue at length with family members, friends, and in-laws who all sympathized but had no other recourse or suggestion. Most of them tried to talk me out of it saying that if fate takes Megan then so be it but I don’t believe in fate and even if I did, maybe my fate is to be a slave for 5 years.
From this point on I began to focus on time after 5 years. In the world people have gone through probably far worse than what I would go through and once my slavery was over not only would I be free again but Megan would be alive and probably free of her condition. I contacted several war and capture survivors and they gave me some hope that I would have the courage to face this.
The reality is that there was no dilemma. Giving up 5 years of freedom is worth saving the life of my beautiful child.
I agreed to Madam’s proposal, pending the lawyer‘s review. The lawyer I hired at Madam’s expense had strong concerns about many of the provisions or lack of provisions in the contract but all of them fit my understanding of the agreement. Would I be starved and then after almost 5 years brought back to health? I had no idea. Would I be experimented on for some sort of horrendous research project? Unknown. Would I be able to see and hear once I was released? Yes, the lawyer found the provision ensuring that. What if I was a mental vegetable after 5 years of torture? Too bad, this was the risk inherent in this sort of agreement, I think that was clear in my discussions with Madam’s representative.
The lawyer recommended allowing visits by family but we were eventually able to work out that local police authorities would visit me with the supervision of Madam’s attendant for two hours once every year starting one year after my slavery would begin. The authorities would have no power to do anything other than ensure that the terms of the contract were not being violated but I felt that those terms wouldn’t be violated in any case, if Madam wanted to break the law by killing me she could have just invited me to discuss the issue and killed me right then. Breaking the contract was probably the last thing Madam would want to do after spending 2 million dollars for me.
I visited my family, friends, and in-laws and said tearful goodbyes. I would only be gone 5 years but it felt like my life was ending. I spent the rest of the time with Megan in the hospital until I had to leave. I told Megan that I would be gone for a long time, saying only that I would be serving my country. She was very sad but she was a good girl and brave for the sacrifice she would have to make in being raised by my parents.
On the jet to my new life I cried the entire way. To anyone who asked me about it I said that I had lost a beloved cat. Megan was flown on a flight chartered by Madam with special care taken due to her condition. The first week of Megan’s procedure went well but it was far too early to say what the results would be. I felt like I was in a nightmare which I could not end, or like I was walking down a hallway to my execution with no doors or ways out.
A limousine driver picked me up at the airport and on the long drive into a rural area nothing seemed out of the ordinary. I was going to be spending a week as a normal person before my slavery began, as long as Megan’s procedure was a success, but that did not brighten my mood.
The week did help, though. I was led by a butler through a lavish mansion into a nice guest room which was very comfortable. I was allowed to walk around the house and generally treated as a guest, albeit without a formal host. I had expected to meet Madam but went the entire week without seeing her as she was apparently out of town. I kept in touch with the hospital performing Megan’s procedures and they gave me encouraging news each day. On day 5 of my guest stay the surgeon told me that it looked like the operations were a success and she would recover, eventually leading a mostly normal life with regular follow-up visits.
With this news I felt as though a weight were being lifted off me. I had become quite distressed I thought due to my impending slavery but a big part of that was due to the uncertainty with Megan’s operations. Now that Megan appeared to be making it through, my mood brightened somewhat.
I enjoyed my final two days of freedom before beginning 5 years of slavery.
On the final day before day 0, a man in the mansion introduced himself as Claudio who would be training me as a slave. He seemed like a nice person but also seemed to be looking forward to his task. When I asked if having a slave is a regular occurrence for Madam or for anyone he said no but he did not elaborate on his training experience.
Claudio told me that my life would be very difficult, especially in the first week or however long it takes until I am trained. He advised me to focus on following orders to the letter and to try to think of my Madam’s happiness at all time. When I asked when I would meet Madam he told me that I would need to wait to find out about that. He said that I would take my commands from anyone in the house and not just Madam, everyone else I see will be my Master and I should obey completely as if they were Madam.
This all seemed surreal as if we were both play acting. I wondered if someone would step into the room and say that it was all a joke. But it wasn’t a joke.
Fortunately, the training did not begin until the next day and I had one last day to relax, eat a few good meals, and sleep. I made sure to take care of my own sexual needs that evening because I had been warned by the BDSM friends that this might be my last chance.
The next day I wondered if my slavery would begin as soon as I woke up but it didn’t. I was allowed to walk around just as before. I walked on the grounds in front of the mansion and thought about escaping but there was a huge gate encircling the grounds and I would need to have the gate attendant open the gate. I figured I would give it a try so I asked him but he said no. I thought about attacking him and opening the gate but I realized how silly I was being, I signed a legally-binding contract and my daughter wasn’t even released from the hospital yet. I went back into my room to calm down.
Just after lunch the trainer Claudio entered my room carrying a bag containing some items. Since he didn’t knock, I knew that he meant business.
He told me to strip, just like that. And so it begins.
I didn’t hesitate. Once I stood completely naked before him he knelt before me and attached to each of my ankles a solid metal tight cuff and locked each in place with an audible click. He told me that these would stay on for 5 years and there is no way to remove these without the key held by Madam. The cuffs were thick and heavy despite being only big enough to fit around my ankles.
Claudio then showed me a remote control and told me that the ankle cuffs are designed to deliver a shock of varying intensity controlled by the remote. He said that he was going to need me to experience several shocks so he had me sit on the bed. I tried to let him know that this wasn’t necessary but he told me to shut up.
I sat on the bed waiting for my life to change. My life had already changed as I had gone past the point of no return but just as the BDSM friends had told me, the moment I feel the pain of punishment or torture would really sink it in for me emotionally.
It really did sink in as the brief shock Claudio delivered to my ankles was intense and unbearable. I screamed and rolled onto my stomach even though it was just a quick zap. He said that there would be several shocks so I begged him for no more, please I will be a good slave.
Claudio smiled at me and then pressed the button again putting me in excruciating pain again, this time for at least a full second. I was face down trying to clutch at the bed sheets and breathing hard when the third shock came. This one was noticeably less intense but it hurt enough to make me groan and writhe in pain and it lasted for a few seconds.
These were moments I had tried to prepare for with the BDSM friends but it was no use. I was a whimpering mess, begging for a scrap of mercy.
Claudio re-activated the cuffs but this time the intensity was much less. The shock hurt only somewhat and after a second I was able to not groan but it was constant and did not stop. After 20-30 seconds of this I was writhing and whimpering in pain again. I looked at Claudio hoping to let him know with my begging look that he can stop this but he seemed to be enjoying my pain.
As the shock continued I thought to myself I can’t stand this, I have to get out, I can’t get out, someone please help me followed by I am screwed! I made the wrong choice, I should have let Megan die. No!!!
As I lay on the bed trying to recover Claudio told me to stand up so I did. He looked into my crying eyes and I think he saw what he was hoping to see.
Claudio then let me out of my room and into an interior courtyard. I was naked but my BDSM friends had warned me that clothes would probably not matter any more so I was not surprised to be led naked past the gardener who was working on the hedges. I didn’t even think of trying to escape, it was pointless. I was led downstairs underground and into a prison cell, complete with solid metal bars and stone walls and floor. The cell was near the entrance of a larger complex which continued into the darkness beyond. There was a single dim light on the ceiling outside of the cell, a toilet with toilet paper nearby, a sink with a faucet and a toothbrush and toothpaste, and a bed. I was glad and a bit surprised to see a mattress and decent sheets and covers on the bed. I later learned that Madam does not approve the use of sleep deprivation and wants her slave to be clean.
Due to the help I had received from my BDSM friends I was not freaking out at being held in a somewhat dark cell under the ground. Claudio told me that he would allow me some time to get used to my new home and he would be back.
Once he went up the stairs and closed the door, I sat on the bed to try to take in what I was feeling. The ankle cuffs started giving off a very mild and non-painful shock which lasted for a minute and I guess was Claudio’s way of showing me the range of his remote control and the depth of his control over me in general.
This was going to be bad, very bad. I had hoped that slavery would be like being a servant without the right to leave but it’s going to be much worse than that. Why do they need to put ankle shock cuffs on me? I’m legally bound to be here already. The answer is that they are going to make me to very unpleasant things and/or they are going to torture me. Probably both.
I thought back to the BDSM scenes I had tried. Those were consensual and even then I hit my limit fairly quickly. I could still see the faces of my BDSM friends which clearly displayed their pity for me in not being able to withstand much pain.
I buried my head in the pillow and cried.
It wasn’t long before Claudio returned. Even just in the half hour or so of being in a dark prison I felt entombed and welcomed the light of outside.
Claudio led me deeper into the underground complex past a shower area and into a large room. Once he turned on the lights I could not handle what I was seeing.
I woke up and was lying on the carpeted floor in the large room with Claudio leaning over me and lightly slapping my face to revive me. I said out loud “Please tell me that I did not see what I just saw.”
Claudio just shrugged and helped me sit up to see the truth again. The room was full of apparatus and implements designed for the sole purpose of inflicting torture. I couldn’t bring myself to look at any in detail and mostly just averted my eyes.
Claudio helped me stand and I just kept my eyes downward. I decided to just look at Claudio’s boots so that I wouldn’t look at the torture equipment. Claudio lifted my chin, though, so that he could enjoy the fear in my eyes. There was a moment when I felt a further power exchange from me to him, to use a term my BDSM friends used, and I would do just about anything to avoid spending time in this room.
Claudio sensed it and said “Between the ankle cuffs and just seeing this room, you would do absolutely anything I said, wouldn’t you?” I nodded and he continued “There isn’t any need for me to train you, is there?” I shook my head no and softly said “No, Sir.”
He said “That wouldn’t be much fun, though, and I can’t take any chances. You need to be completely trained before meeting Madam.”
I tried begging Claudio for mercy while on my knees and wringing my hands but he just enjoyed it and it didn’t sway him. He led me to the first torture and told me that my first lesson is agony because I need to be broken before I may be molded in my new image as an obedient slave. I felt like a zombie as my mind was almost numb with emotional agony.
My BDSM friends had blindfolded shackled me standing up in the middle of their play room spread eagled and now I was blindfolded and shackled in the same way, although there was no padding in these metal shackles. The physical position was the same but the feelings were completely different. Then, I was afraid of the pain I would receive but now with Claudio ready to torture me I was in absolute terror. I wondered if my heart could survive such terror.
I waited for the first jab or whip of pain but it didn’t occur at first. After a minute of waiting still nothing. I had not heard footsteps walking away from me but maybe I missed them due to the tension I was feeling. Was Claudio standing near me, just waiting? I didn’t hear him at all. After another minute still nothing at all. The room was cool and I was shivering, though it was more due to fear than the temperature.
After a third minute still nothing. Every now and then I thought I felt a very light whisper of air on my left side and I flinched a few times from it. I was still in full terror alert, just dreading when the agony would begin.
Two more minutes went by and I began to feel strong discomfort from being stretched out spread-eagled. Five more minutes and that discomfort turned into pain and then into strong pain in my shoulders and wrists. After another five minutes the rest of my body joined in to complain about the pain. I wasn’t at all in agony but I could not take a whole lot more of this. I tried to squirm but I could not move.
Claudio must have left without making enough sound for me to hear him, and I was glad for the respite from torture which had not yet begun. As the pain of bondage slowly increased, though, I began to wish that he would come back. After a total of maybe a half hour my back was feeling more pain than I could take and I started groaning. After another maybe half hour I had little control over my groaning due to the pain.
I wondered how on earth I could stand being tortured when I couldn’t even handle being shackled.
It was between one and two hours when Claudio finally returned into the room as I could hear him walk towards me from the direction of the exit hallway. In my emotional state I felt like I was being rescued even though I knew intellectually that my rescue was a delusion.
Claudio startled me by slapping my back with his hand. In a fake American western accent he said “Ready for a good ol’ whippin’ boy?”
My BDSM friends had advised me to answer in the affirmative if asked by my future Master whether I would like to be tortured so I said “Yes, Sir” with as much enthusiasm as I could muster. That answer didn’t seem consistent with my earlier whimpering and begging, though.
Claudio brought a bullwhip close so I could see it in his hands. I froze in terror. My BDSM friends tried several different types of whip on me and when I asked about a bullwhip they told me that I simply would not be able to handle it so I had to hope it wouldn’t be part of my slavery. Yet here it was, right in front of my face.
There was no slow build-up of pain, no brushing of the whip against my skin to scare me, no hesitation whatsoever. I was just whipped, all over my back and butt, with many of the strokes wrapping somewhat around my body to lick my side or chest. Every stroke was agony. I screamed loud after the first few strokes and tried to keep a mental picture of Megan’s beautiful face in my mind but that dissolved into uncontrollable thrashing and the burning of the whip. In reality, there was time between blows but the only thing which registered in my body and mind was excruciating pain.
I woke up lying on the carpet with Claudio sitting above me again, gently slapping my face. The blindfold had been removed and I was no longer shackled. He told me that he was being merciful with me as this was my first session but my back felt so much agony that I barely heard him as I groaned continuously. He shook me and when he said that he would torture the hell out of me if I didn’t calm down, that got my attention.
He stepped away and told me to crawl on my belly towards him so I turned onto my stomach and pushed myself forward, keeping my body pressed to the floor despite the rug burn feeling from the slightly harsh carpet. Without any further commands I kept crawling until I reached his boots and then I kissed his boots over and over.
Claudio laughed at my obsequious gesture and then pulled me up by my hair to drag me to walk to the next torture. My throat sore from screaming as I begged for a rest as my back was burning but I did not receive a response. I was led up to a padded table to lie face up with my wrists shackled by my side and my ankles shackled apart. My neck had its own shackle and I hoped that the pain of torture would not cause me to jerk my head upwards to choke.
On second thought, I wished that my head would jerk quickly upwards. Maybe that would end this nightmare.
My BDSM friends had warned me that being restrained face up could be very bad for me. We tried some of what they call cbt cock and ball torture but that freaked me out even before they began. I had calmed myself down and asked them to try out the cbt anyway but I just couldn’t stand it. That was then. Now I was freaked out just being restrained.
My freak out became much worse when Claudio showed me a long rod with two electrode spikes at the end, looking like devil’s horns. He powered it on and I heard an ominous buzzing sound. I felt like I would have a heart attack but I had no such luck.
Here it was only day 1 out of 1826 days and I was already desperately wishing I was dead.
Claudio killed me with that shock stick, not literally though. He played me, tormented me between shocks, and delivered devastating shocks in sensitive places. I was a quivering and whimpering wreck even after just a few zaps. There were not just a few zaps, though.
This session of torture lasted a long time, probably a full hour, and I had to endure dozens of shocks between the awful torment of teasing and waiting. The shocks to my calves and arms were terrible but not as bad as the shocks to my thighs or to the soles of my feet. Worse were the shocks to my fingers and toes which caused me to feel like I coughed up a lung as I screamed. My nipples were not spared and they felt like they were completely burned off.
Saving the worst for last, my tormentor shocked my balls. Several times. And my penis.
The first shock to my groin made me completely hysterical but that didn’t stop the rest of the shocks from being applied. Even though there was probably on average more than one minute between these jolts, I did not stop thrashing and screaming with my hoarse voice.
Finally the zaps stopped and I was released from the restraints. I was still out of control thrashing and yelling so Claudio just picked me up and fireman-carried me back to my bed in the cell. When most of my awareness returned I found that I was alone and locked in the cell.
After remaining on the bed for a while I got up to stumble to the sink and drink water from the faucet. I moved closer to the light and saw that I had mild burn marks in several places on my body where repeated shocks had been applied, including on my balls and penis. I also saw a few places on my sides where the bullwhip had given me welts and knew from the pain that I had marks all over my back. My ankle shock shackles were a bit difficult to carry as I walked.
How can this be a reality of my life? Or any life? My BDSM friends had not gone through anything this extreme, though they warned me what I already knew that anything was possible. One BDSM slave had described being severely tortured with a shock stick along with other implements and he had a difficult time describing how he got through the experience which lasted probably a half hour in his case. I guess I made it through my experience today but I do not feel like it, I feel destroyed.
This was just day one. Just day one. That kept going through my head. It was unfathomable to me that I could survive going through much more of this. Doesn’t a human heart just give out under such stress? Hopefully so.
I replaced that recurring thought with the thought of Megan. She was alive and would probably be well. If she died I knew that I would be rescued as an army of my friends and family would descend on this compound and point out those clauses in the contract. I held onto the memory of Megan and tried to keep her in the forefront of my thoughts. My sacrifice is not in vain.
Why can’t they give me a chance to be a good slave without having to torture me to break me? I really would do anything they wanted without argument.
Claudio returned and asked through the cell bars “How is our little bird today?” with a playful tone of voice. I replied “Terrible” to which he quickly said “Good!”
He unlocked the cell door and had me turn around so he could check my back. He casually remarked that he enjoyed all of the stripes on my back and confirmed that no permanent harm had been done.
He then asked me if I had any homosexual desires.
My BDSM friends had warned me that sex would probably be a part of my slavery and maybe the biggest part and that it may involve activities which I would consider horrific including sex with men. One female Master had even offered her male slave’s services to me so I could get used to it but I declined because the thought of being with a man in that way made me sick to my stomach, although we did talk about it and she did put a plug in my butt which had felt very strange.
Claudio’s question didn’t surprise me but it did disgust me because of where I feared it would lead. I was just glad that he wasn’t touching my naked body at the moment.
Claudio said he was glad that I did not have any homosexual desires because he was going to rape me and wanted to make sure it was not something I wanted.
I guess I should feel thankful that he was warning me but it made me feel even more owned that he could just casually tell me this and we both knew that it would happen.
He told me to lie on my stomach on the bed. For not the first time I felt very strange in willingly participating in something horrible since I wasn’t being physically forced even though I was being forced by the circumstances and the fact that he could shock the hell out of my ankles with just the press of a button.
To my surprise he was gentle as he raped my ass and must have used some lube on his penis as there was no severe pain. I buried my face in the pillow and held back the nausea building inside of me but then I had to focus on the pain of being violated and stretched inside. Even though the pain was not severe, the experience was very intense and I just wanted to scream and cry as I felt him thrusting inside of me. The pain became severe for a few seconds as he exploded inside of me.
Part of me was completely revolted by this but another part was thankful that the experience was not nearly as bad as the tortures earlier. That was probably the point of the torture, so that the slavery would not seem so bad. Or else the torture was for fun. Hopefully not for fun.
Once Claudio’s orgasm was done he lay his naked body on mine which hurt the skin on my back from the earlier whippings. I silently cried into the pillow as Claudio moaned softly in contentment.
After a few minutes he got off me and then had me lick all over his groin area to clean it. It was unfathomable to me to have to do this but I licked the combination of his sticky semen and probably some of the inside of my own ass but I sat on the bed and did what he commanded as he patted my head like a dog and laughed at me. I could also feel his semen dripping down my leg.
Thankfully, Claudio left a few minutes later. I threw up in the sink a couple of times and then collapsed in exhaustion on the bed.
I woke up and it was pitch black. I don’t know how long I slept, it may have been an hour or several hours. I felt my way to the toilet to relieve myself and then to the sink to wash the sticky stuff off my thigh and butt. I felt my way to the cell door to confirm that it was locked and then back to the bed.
It was several more hours before anything else would happen. In that time I tried not to think about what was happening to me and instead focused on some of the memories of Lily and Megan. I wondered if it would be easier on me to forget my previous life and move on but I quickly realized that it worked better for me if I held onto the slim pleasure I could get from remembering when times were wonderful. I also realized that I would never regret my decision to become a slave as long as Megan was alive.
I became hungry but couldn’t do anything about it other than drink from the faucet from time to time. The pitch black made me feel as though I was in a tomb except that there was no shortage of air. I slept again. With the pain of whipping in my back reducing my primary difficulty became boredom. Memories of my wife and child were helpful but the boredom and darkness were having an effect and I was becoming depressed. I spent at least a half hour just staring into the darkness as I lie unmoving on the bed. This was another form of torture, much less acute than the other tortures but still debilitating.
Claudio opened the door to the outside and started walking down the stairs to my cell. I saw light again for the first time in maybe a dozen hours. As Claudio unlocked and entered my cell I expected a mocking question of how I was doing but he silently walked up to where I was sitting on the bed, unzipped and pulled down his pants, grabbed me by the hair, and pulled my head towards his growing penis.
I guess I was to have no life at all but to serve. I don’t know why this was any sort of surprise to me.
He thrust his penis inside my mouth and pushed my head against his crotch. I assumed that I would be punished if I didn’t make any effort so I used my tongue while he grew inside of me. I tried to block the back of my throat with my tongue but it was no use. I gagged and tried to struggle away to catch my breath but he continued to hold me firm in place as my eyes quickly watered while I choked. He pulled back a bit and then thrust forward, repeating this several times and gagging me each time. As he fucked my face my body started to go limp but my head was held up by the hair. I felt like I would die from lack of oxygen.
Finally, his sticky semen gushed into my mouth and he moaned as he pulled out. He let go of my hair and I collapsed back onto the bed with my mouth just hanging open as I coughed and tried to get some air. After maybe a half minute of this I looked up and he was gone. My cell door was locked again and the dim light was left on. I noticed a container of prepackaged food had been left in the cell for me.
I felt such revulsion that I did not want to close my mouth to have to taste what was in my mouth and on my lips. I went to the sink and coughed and spit up what I could into the sink and used water from the faucet to try to clean my mouth. I managed not to throw up, I guess due to the earlier nausea being somewhat worse.
I collapsed on the bed again and started laughing. I felt hysterical and as I laughed I wondered if I was going insane. I calmed down and realized that as bad as being raped was, for me it was infinitely better than being tortured as I was before. If the next 5 years would be spent being raped but not in severe pain, then that was much better than some of the alternatives.
When my BDSM friends and I discussed the possibility that I would be only a sexual slave, I admitted to having some excitement at the prospect. A wealthy woman close to my age having me perform all sorts of sexual acts for her amusement is not my idea of fun, although a few of the BDSM slaves said it would be fun for them if they weren’t already spoken for, but I figured that it wouldn’t be too terrible.
But I wasn’t a sexual slave to any woman at this point, it was to a man. That was not okay but still much better than the torture. I had no illusions, though, that I wouldn’t be tortured. There was a big room filled with torture equipment ready for me. I stopped laughing.
Over the next several days or a week I was tortured and sexually abused by Claudio and one other man.
One torture involved being shackled spread-eagled to a cross with literally dozens of clothespins attached to the skin of the sides of my stomach and chest and having those clothespins pulled and removed quickly all as a group, eliciting my uncontrolled screams. Clothespins were also attached to my nipples at times.
On another occasion my bare butt was caned. I have no idea whether or not what I experienced was severe compared to other canings but it seemed like the end of the world to me as my screams were answered with only more strokes. I was revived with smelling salts at one point during this torture.
One torture session involved alternating ice and fire from small cups which were heated before application on my skin. My back was particularly sensitive to this. I whimpered loudly even before feeling the first fire cup and then screamed from the pain.
Claudio and the other man also took sadistic delight in sexually abusing me, frequently shoving a dick in my ass and mouth at the same time and then swapping places. Their semen became a regular part of my diet and after the first couple of times I no longer threw up.
It is amazing to me to be able to write about these things as if they are normal. I may as well say that we took a walk in the park and stopped for ice cream cones. For me, it became the new normal and I wondered if the remaining 1800+ days would be this way.
There were other extreme tortures, or extreme to me, which I will not detail here.
Most of the time when I was recuperating in my cell there was no light at all and after a week I began to associate the darkness with safety. I cried frequently and had a few sessions of pounding my anger into the mattress of the bed. Later in the week my anger faded away and I spent most of the time in a depressed state of emotional numbness. I hoped that I would die from lack of will to live.
The food wasn’t bad and seemed to focus on nutrition and although it was pre-packaged and not particularly tasty, I was not often hungry. Every other day I was taken to the nearby shower room where Claudio and the other man put thick boots on my feet with wraps around the edges just above my ankles to cover the ankle shock collars and not allow them to get wet. Late in the week they used a cloth threaded between the collars and my legs to clean the area.
I wondered what would happen if I ran the faucet on the collars. The drain on the sink was too big for anything I could stuff it with other than bed covers and the pillow. I started to think of different possibilities but on second thought, suicide by electrocution did not seem like an appealing thought considering that I would probably not be successful and probably be punished severely for it. As bad as my life was already, it could be much worse, just as one example I could be in bondage all night. And simply de-activating the collars with water while not drawing attention to the attempt so that I could bide my time for a later escape did not seem realistic at all, electrocution would probably result from water on the collars.
A week of intermittent severe torture and sexual abuse had me questioning the sanity of choosing to be here. Even through everything, though, I managed to hold onto a mental picture of Megan which negated my regrets. I only hoped that I would feel this way in 1280 days.
1280, such a ridiculously huge number. I started to convert that to hours but figured that would depress me further so I stopped. It occurred to me that I should start counting the days off but without any sense of time I figured that would be futile. I did not need to keep track from a release standpoint, my family would be coming for me as soon as the 5 years was up. Maybe they would even try to get the law changed to make slavery illegal but I didn’t have any real hope for that.
I wondered if my 5 years would be spent as simply Claudio’s bitch. Did Madam spend 2 million dollars on me to just be a plaything for her employee? That would be quite an employment perk. I remembered that Claudio had introduced himself as my trainer, though, so I figured that my life would transition into some other type of slavery at some point.
A transition did occur when after several days of slavery Claudio began my obedience training. I was given an extended rest of maybe a dozen hours from the most recent torture session and then Claudio told me that he was going to put me through a series of commands to test and strengthen my obedience. I’m typically sluggish after several hours of darkness and inactivity for the first couple of minutes after Claudio turns on the light and enters my cell but I tried to shake that in order to be fully obedient.
For the life of me I felt like a dog for the next hour or so. I was taken into the carpeted torture room where Claudio cleared an area and just gave me command after command in rapid fire. “Kneel. Stand. Turn around. Hold your balls. Slap your face. Kiss your elbow. Sit. Lick your foot. Play with your dick. 10 pushups.” I believe that I was very obedient and pleased Claudio with my responses.
He continued “Crawl forward on your belly. Lie on your back and don’t move.” He then stomped on my upper arm, my thigh, and my other thigh and I didn’t move an inch other than from the impact of his boot. He then lifted his boot over my genitals and I didn’t move. He stomped down but stopped short of connecting, and I didn’t move. It didn’t make sense to try to get away from any blows he would give me as I knew that I would be punished for it. He threatened my genitals again and then stomped down connecting with my penis and balls.
I couldn’t help but yell in pain and curl up, moving my hands over my groin. I quickly felt a painful continuous zap on my ankles and moved my hands to that area as I yelled in pain. The jolt of electricity continued to match the pain in my groin and I writhed and screamed. I heard him say “The pain continues until you lie still” as if he was talking to a child but it did help me understand through the fog of agony and after several more seconds I willed myself back into a resting position flat on my back. The electricity stopped while the pain in my groin had somewhat receded.
Claudio then had me go through a series of quick commands again, much longer than the previous set, and all of which I obeyed as quickly and completely as I could. The commands later became tougher including caressing his groin while his pants were on, kissing him passionately on the lips, and licking all over his boots including the soles but I made it through without any big hitches, despite being fatigued from all of the activity.
He had me lie on my back again as he used my chest as a footrest for his boots while he told me that I had done very well in the obedience test. He was particularly glad that I had not tried any escape attempt or complained about my treatment as that showed I accepted my slavery.
There was no more torture for the next day or two as he repeated the obedience training or test three more times, with different command chains. I suffered the shock on average once per session when I became slightly disoriented due to the rapid-fire commands but overall I was told that I was very obedient.
For the next few days after that there were no more obedience or torture sessions. I was mostly left alone and the dim light was typically left on. Even without total darkness I felt like I was in a tomb but I was very thankful for not being tortured. Claudio and the other man entered my cell a few more times for sexual service but I didn’t mind even the most disgusting acts as it was far preferable to torture.
On one occasion just after I was fed and showered Claudio entered my cell and told me what to expect soon. Madam had seen video recordings of my obedience sessions and agreed that I was ready to begin serving her. Claudio indicated that it was extremely important for me to obey her completely as the consequences would be unbelievably horrible. Several times he stressed the important of obedience. I tried to ask what sort of things I would be doing but Claudio made it clear that we were not having a conversation.
Suddenly, it was time to go meet the Madam. I had thought that Claudio was just telling me for the future but the future is now. I was nervous as hell, afraid that one slip and my life would go from a negative 10 to a negative 1000. I was blindfolded and my hands were cuffed behind my back. Strangely, I was glad about this as it is easier not to slip up when there is nothing expected of me other than to go where I was led.
Claudio led me up the stairs to the outdoor courtyard. I was still naked and the outside air and sunshine felt good on my skin. I gave a brief consideration to the fact that I was glad to be blindfolded and glad to be naked, it made me smile for a moment.
It wasn’t easy trying to keep my balance on the uneven surfaces of the courtyard, especially with the weight of the individual ankle shackles, but I enjoyed the feel of grass on my bare feet. I had been so focused on the awful things being done to me in the prison that I hadn’t realized the confines of the prison itself had been weighing down on me. Maybe if I could be allowed to experience the outdoor air between sessions of unpleasantness, it wouldn’t be so bad.
I was just fooling myself. I couldn’t take 5 more years of torture, even if I was only tortured infrequently. I stopped myself again, I would take torture and anything I was given, I was a slave and had no choice.
I was led into a thickly carpeted room and up an elevator onto another thick carpet. There was a faint sound of bells in the distance. I had butterflies in my stomach hoping that I could be a good slave, needing to be a good slave.
We stopped walking and I could sense that the moment was at hand. I heard footsteps on the carpet near me and wondered if Madam herself was looking at me. A woman in front of me said “Why are your knees shaking?”
Her soft voice was like music to my ears. It was not a commanding or aggressive type of voice as I had anticipated but I had not heard a woman’s voice in probably a couple of weeks and it was a welcome change. However, her European accent made it difficult to understand what she said and I had a sudden anxiety about being able to obey commands I could not understand.
I hadn’t answered her question. Shit! I quickly and meekly said “I am nervous, Madam” while pointing my face downward as an act of respect. From what I could hear, she moved behind me and then I felt soft fingers caress my butt. She said “There are no marks.”
Claudio responded “Madam, he is very resilient and can take many strokes.”
I cringed internally. Why did he have to say something like that to encourage more strokes?
She replied “Very good” and moved in front of me. She grabbed my balls and started gently squeezing them. I hadn’t flinched so far but I was worried about what she might do next. Fortunately, she just caressed my balls and limp penis and then let go.
She stepped back and then hands guided me by my arms to the side. The cuffs on my wrists were removed and I was guided to step onto a platform. Hands positioned me in a detailed way so that I was in a strange pose with my left arm forward and my hand in a specific position while my right arm was held away from my body somewhat and the hand cupped. My knees were slightly bent in a specific position. I was told to stay just like that until told otherwise.
I was in a pose as if I was ballroom dancing with someone. Strange as the situation was, I expected a mannequin to be positioned with me but that was not the case. I just stayed like that while those who had been guiding me into this position had moved away and I heard sounds of movement in apparently another part of the room.
This is ridiculous. They want me to just stand here and pose as if I’m dancing? That’s okay by me, much better than most anything else they could have me doing.
I tried to stay as still as possible but I inevitably swayed a bit and one time almost lost my balance. I felt like I was being watched constantly as if Olympic judges were going to evaluate my performance but maybe no-one was watching me, the only sound I heard was an occasional turn of a page some distance away.
After several minutes my left arm started getting tired and I had to concentrate to keep it aloft and extended away from my body. After another 10 minutes or so my arm really started hurting and I became very nervous that I was going to fail. I focused on regular breathing to take my mind off the pain and felt silly that just keeping my arm like this would cause me so much pain. Why didn’t Claudio have me exercising my arm ahead of time to prepare me for this?
My arm was starting to throb and I was almost groaning in pain trying to keep it in place. I couldn’t hold it up any longer and let it drop to my side. I tried to maintain some decorum so I didn’t otherwise move but kept my left arm against my side until the pain was gone and after a minute resumed my stance. My arm started to hurt again right away, though, and after another minute I had to lower it. To minimize movement so that I could avoid attention I decided to just leave my left arm against my side and stay still like that.
To my distress, my right arm started hurting. It was extended a bit away from my body and although it was not far, after more than a half hour of holding it like that it started giving me pain. How long was I going to be required to be in this position?
The answer was not forthcoming. Every minute or two I continued to hear a page being turned. After maybe another 15 minutes my right arm became too painful to keep aloft and I let it rest by my side, still in a sort of pose as my legs were in a specific position with one knee bent slightly. Just a few seconds after that I heard someone stand up and walk towards me. I tensed up in fear, terror really, hoping that I would not be tortured too severely for being unable to keep my arms in position but the person walked past me and out of my hearing.
I did not hear another thing for hours.
It was unbelievable to me that anyone would gain pleasure from me posing in such a way. I could maybe understand it if they wanted me to be on display in some sort of humiliating situation or pose but just to stand here doesn’t make any sense to me.
1200 more days of this? I keep coming up with the answer that I couldn’t take it but as always I have no choice. Just the boredom of standing here for hours is tough to take not to mention the discomfort of having to stand in place as well as some thirst and hunger.
I hate being controlled like this. Even if they have me do the most innocuous thing I hate that I no longer have any say over my own situation. I can’t even opt out and change my mind.
It occurred to me that with no-one apparently in the room, I could remove my blindfold and find a way to kill myself. I don’t even think about escape because there is nowhere to go as the external gate is locked but suicide might be an acceptable escape. I remembered the comment from Claudio about being videotaped during my obedience tests, though, and worried that I might be under surveillance now. I decided to wait until I was in bed and could think clearly about my options, including whether or not I would want and be able to kill myself if given an opportunity. I’ll probably want to hold off on that and learn what my slavery will really be like.
Finally, after several hours of just standing there getting stiff I heard footsteps from at least two people approaching me and I was led by my upper arms off the platform and out of the room. Without a word we went down the stairs, outside in the cool night air, and down the stairs into my cell. Claudio removed my blindfold and still without a word locked the cell and left, leaving the dim light on.
What a weird day. Never in a million years would I have thought I’d be some sort of mannequin slave.
I drank a good amount of water from the faucet and did some stretching exercises to try to get rid of the stiffness. Several packages of food were left for me so I figured that maybe Claudio was tired of visiting me every day. I slept long and well, I was tired from standing all day but not in pain from whipping or other torture. I hadn’t been tortured in days which made me wonder if that was just for breaking me.
Torture is also used for punishment, I learned.
Claudio entered my cell and said “Yesterday you were told to keep your arms still, were you not?” I replied with trepidation “Yes, Sir.” Claudio continued “Did you do that?” I lowered my head a bit and said “No, Sir, I am sorry, Sir.” Claudio said “Were you disobedient?” “Yes, Sir, I am very sorry, Sir.” He said “What punishment do you think is appropriate for your disobedience?”
My natural inclination was to explain that it wasn’t realistic to think that I could hold my arms up for several hours but from his tone of voice and sadistic streak I knew about him, I decided to go ahead and play his game. I would be tortured regardless of what I said.
I replied “Sir, I guess I should be whipped a little, Sir.” He pressed the issue, saying “’A little?’” “Yes, Sir.”
He paused and looked into my averted eyes. He said “Look at me, boy. If you tell me what you would like to do now, I will go with your recommendation for punishment.”
I didn’t quite catch his meaning at first but then I understood. I continued to look in his eyes as I said “I would like to suck your dick, Sir.” I couldn’t help but look down a bit and I was probably blushing. He just stood there and glared at me so I ventured “Please, Sir, please let me suck your dick.”
He said “Do you enjoy doing that?” I thought about taking his humiliation game further but I couldn’t do it. Risking a world of hurt I said “No, Sir.”
To my relief he said “I didn’t think so but I am glad that you are willing to be my bitch. You can relax, though, you’ll have to keep your perverted desires to yourself for a while. Come with me for your little punishment.”
He led me into the torture room where he shackled me standing up spread-eagled and put clamps on my nipples. As he was about to apply the second one with his mouth right up to my ear he whispered “Scream in a moment” and then adjusted the pressure on the clamps.
The clamps were not nearly at their maximum level and the pain was not bad. I realized that he was not only showing me mercy in my torture but covering his tracks for the video recordings by having me pretend I was being tortured more severely.
I put on a good show. It wasn’t difficult, I was in some pain and it was easy for me to remember the agony I had been through already several times previously in this room. I wasn’t able to cry but my screaming seemed authentic, or at least it did to me. When he removed the shackles I allowed Claudio to physically assist me back into my cell even though I was fine.
I whispered thank you and he said that I could talk now so I said it out loud. “Thank you, Sir, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.” He said “You’ve been very good to me and Solus for those times we came into your cell.”
I considered the implications of what I said next. “I would like to be good to you and Solus again sometime, Sir.” If my torture sessions could be reduced, I would be willing to do just about anything. He said “Maybe” and then left.
The next several days were torture. That isn’t the correct term considering the rest of what I had gone through but just sitting in a dimly lit cell with nothing to do but eat and take care of basic necessities, interrupted by a shower every other day, is very un-fun to say the least. I didn’t even have anything to write with.
I tried to think about all of the songs I am no longer allowed to hear and that helped pass a few hours. I then tried to recount the details of several of my favorite science fiction stories and TV shows. After a day-and-a-half I ran out of interesting memories to remember. When Claudio brought my daily rations or guided me into the shower I wanted to beg him to release me but I knew that would do no good. I did ask him for something to read or write with but he refused.
After a few days I thought about asking Claudio if I could service him sexually but I recoiled at that thought. It’s one thing to try to avoid torture but to just relieve boredom I didn’t want to go through that degradation if I could avoid it.
I spent a lot of time being frustrated at my situation. What good am I doing here? How is it helping or pleasing anyone for me to be bored out of my mind? I thought that I would be a slave who at least had some work to do or provide enjoyment for someone. Now I feel just completely useless.
I tried to extend the daily visits from Claudio with conversation but he wasn’t having it and just went about his business. I tried concocting fantasies of marines rescuing me or UFO aliens taking me to Mars but I couldn’t come up with much enjoyment from that. I also tried remembering what sex was like but touching myself brought no joy in my depression and so I gave up.
Finally, after a week of utter boredom, I was blindfolded and led by Claudio up the stairs into the fresh air. I smiled and breathed in deeply several times. The air seemed rich with the smell of flowers but that may have just been my imagination. Feeling grass beneath my bare feet was heavenly.
It was difficult to anticipate what would be next but being a slave eliminated my need to know.
I was led by Claudio into a similar or maybe the same room as I was in a week ago and told to just stand still as my wrists were cuffed together behind my back. Claudio and I just remained still for a few minutes until I heard the footsteps of someone approaching. I bowed my head.
From a few feet in front I heard Madam say “What is your name?”
I wasn’t sure if I was being asked and felt a quick slap on the cheek followed by a repeat of the question. The slap was not painful at all. I almost responded “Slave” since it had been weeks since I had heard my name but I said “Mike, Madam” instead.
She said with her soft voice and thick accent “I don’t like ‘Mike’, your name is Cody.” I kept my head bowed. “Come here Cody.”
The voice was just few feet in front of me and without being able to see I was worried I would stumble into her so I walked slowly forward. She said “Come here” again and she had moved further in front of me so I kept walking forward for a dozen steps until she said “Stop. Kneel.”
With some difficulty maintaining my balance due to my hands being cuffed behind my back, I knelt onto a pillow which I was thankful for. I heard a bit of movement of furniture in front of me and then I felt lower legs on my shoulders. I was being used as a rest for her feet, which was fine by me, infinitely better than torture. I wondered if I would be made to stay this way for hours and figured that my back would be in a lot of pain if so but that was not their plan.
After a minute or two of using her footrest, she adjusted her right foot to put her bare toes against my lips and into my mouth once I parted my lips. Clearly she wanted her toes sucked so I obliged. Her foot tasted a bit dirty as if she had been walking around the house a bit but not too terrible. Had this occurred a month ago I would have felt extremely humiliated and rebellious but after all I had been through this was nothing and I was glad for something mild.
Also, finally I was doing something which pleased someone. Internally I laughed at myself a bit in being glad to be someone’s foot slave.
She moved her foot to allow me to suck each toe and then
swapped feet to allow me to suck each of her 10 toes. As I was sucking on the
big toe of her left foot I felt someone, apparently Claudio, fondle my private
parts. There was not much if any reaction until Claudio also reached around me
with his left hand and gently caressed the tip of my left nipple. After a long
period of time with sexual activity, the combination of effects brought a
fairly quick reaction and I gave a slight involuntary moan.
I was blindfolded so it was easy for me to just concentrate on sucking her toes and being jacked off. It was the first pleasure of any type I had felt in weeks and it only took me a minute for the orgasm to build. Being a slave, I had no choice or say in what was occurring so when I exploded my semen spewed onto the floor as I moaned.
She removed her foot from my mouth and told me “Lick it up.” That was something unexpected and gross to me but I knew that I had no choice so I leaned over to the ground on my side to avoid my face hitting the ground while she moved her chair back and out of my way. I then tried to estimate in the dark where my semen would be on the floor and, squirming my body while on my side to move a bit, I just started licking. At first I just tasted some dust from the floor but then my tongue made contact with something wet and sticky. I squirmed my body some more and licked all over the floor nearby until I felt that I had licked it all up.
Pride is a strange thing. It was not one of the proudest moments of my life to enthusiastically lick up my own semen after being jacked off by a man while a woman’s dirty foot was in my mouth but I was proud that I was able to make it through without rebelling in any way. I felt like I gave a good performance and hoped that Madam would be kind to her willing slave.
By the time I was done licking the floor, she was apparently gone. Claudio helped me up and guided me all of the way back to my cell. My stomach was feeling a bit queasy from the thought of what I had done but the outdoor air felt good and I made it back to the cell without incident. Before locking me in the cell Claudio told me “You did good.”
This experience was getting more bizarre by the day. First I was severely tortured for days and also raped over and over, then I was given what seemed like a simple task of standing still which turned out to be impossible, next I was left alone in my boredom and despair for several days, and today I was not a sexual slave but rather a sexual object to be driven to unwanted orgasm. I wondered if Madam spun a wheel to determine how I would suffer next. At least she was present this time.
The next day I would regret having that last thought. Claudio seemed a bit on edge the next morning as he led me into the shower. Once I was done there Claudio did not lead me in the direction of my cell or the exit, we went in the other direction towards the dungeon and I realized that this was the source of Claudio’s excitement. My knees almost buckled in fear as we turned in that direction.
Claudio shackled me so that I was standing spread-eagled and unable to move, just as he had done a couple of weeks ago to whip me. I was almost whimpering in terror but I managed to keep it quiet.
Once I was secured, Claudio began to set up additional shackles. From what I could see, there would be another person shackled right in front of me.
To my surprise, the other bondage victim was going to be Claudio. Once he had the additional restraints set up he put his own wrists and ankles in shackles and used a hinged spreader bar between his ankles. He carefully stood on a small step stool right in front of me, with his body pressing against mine, and then kicked away the stepstool so that he was standing with his arms spread wide but his feet next to each other. Then he separated his ankles wide until the hinge clicked into place on the spreader bar.
Claudio and I were pressed up against each other face-to-face in identical bondage. Our faces were not the only parts of our bodies pressed up against each other, his hard penis was pushing up against my limp one. He was smiling into my face, clearly enjoying the bondage.
I had a sudden fear and asked quietly “Who will free us?”
Claudio tilted his head a bit and kissed me full on the mouth while he ground his body against mine. I tried to back my head away but I couldn’t move enough and had to just take what he gave. Was it his fantasy to die of thirst and starvation while locked in a kiss? I tried to relax and think about Megan but it was difficult with Claudio’s tongue in my mouth.
I heard the exterior door open in the distance and Claudio stopped kissing me. Footsteps approached from the room’s doorway behind me and Madam said “Very good, Claudio, thank you.”
I wanted to look at Madam for the first time but it was not to be as she put the blindfold on me herself this time.
I heard her pick up something nearby and then felt the light brush of a bullwhip against my bare butt. I tensed in fear, terror actually, since when I was whipped here before it was far beyond what I could take. Why couldn’t they use something less painful like a crop or paddle? The question was meaningless since they would give me as much pain as they wanted regardless of the instrument.
The whip cracked against my upper back and I yelled in pain as my body jerked. There was a pause and I realized that Claudio too had groaned from the pain of the whip wrapping around my body onto his. Madam walked slowly to behind Claudio and then cracked the whip again, this time only a small part of it connected with my bare butt. Even just the small part felt like an explosion of agony and I screamed as loud as I could. Claudio had born the brunt of the blow and yelled in my face as his body squirmed.
Even while yelling, though, his penis was as hard as it could be and pressed against me. This was how a couple of the BDSM slaves told me that they react to a whipping. There was nothing remotely sexual going on for me, a whipping and a naked male body do nothing good for me.
It was very bad. I didn’t care about Claudio’s body, his breath on me, or his penis, I only cared about the agony of each whip stroke which had us alternating as the primary target. In reality, I was glad that Claudio’s body was protecting the front of my body from receiving blows. Due to the excruciating pain I yelled and screamed stop stop please stop but I don’t think that my words were intelligible.
Claudio, on the other hand, seemed to be in ecstasy as he ground his body against me and found a way to get friction of his penis against my groin between strokes of the whip. Madam focused a few strokes in a row on Claudio’s back giving me a brief respite.
Claudio came on my groin area and upper legs. I couldn’t imagine getting so aroused by such horrible pain but there was the proof, sticky against my body.
Thankfully, Madam put the bullwhip back where it was and then unlocked Claudio’s handcuffs before leaving. Claudio also left but returned a couple of minutes later to wipe his semen off me with a wet towel and then dried me with another towel. After removing my blindfold, he unlocked my ankles from the spreader bar and then unlocked the handcuffs and helped me hobble back to my cell. How he was able to bear the lingering pain from the whip was beyond me as his back was striped with welts as mine probably was.
He helped me collapse onto the bed in my cell and kissed my cheek, saying “Thank you, my dove” before leaving and locking the cell door.
Later that day in the cell, I reflected on my situation. I thought of Madam as my owner but in reality it seemed to be Claudio I was serving. Over the next week this thought was further reinforced as I was put through more tortures and indignities which all seemed to focus on providing pleasure for Claudio, even when Madam was involved.
This continued for the next several weeks and even the next few months. It all seemed to be for Claudio’s amusement, whether it was mutual torture at the hands of Madam, the rape of my body by Claudio and whatever of his friends participated, a test of servitude, or mercy, kindness, or sexual satisfaction from Claudio, he always shared with me the center of attention.
My life and well-being depended upon Claudio so I shifted my focus to try to maximize his pleasure and he reciprocated with increased kindness and affection. Given a choice of agony or affection, I began to crave his kindness.
After several months I had become Claudio’s slave not only by contract and necessity, but also emotionally. I no longer felt human and only dreamed of a time when I would be free again. I completely lost track of time and life consisted only of pleasing my Master to try to minimize the horrible tortures inflicted on me from time to time.
After an extended period of days without torture, a video camera was set up in front of where I sat. For the first time in what seemed like years I was sitting in a chair like a human being and it felt strange. It was a very comfortable chair with padding and I leaned back in comfort. Claudio asked if I was enjoying myself and I smiled and responded yes very much. Claudio asked if I would like to stay longer and I enthusiastically said yes. Claudio asked if I was sure and I replied yes of course this is wonderful.
Another man presented a set of papers on the table in front of me and asked me to read it. I had not read in what seemed like years and I wondered what was going on. I remembered the one thing I had held onto from my previous life and I worriedly asked if Megan was okay. The man answered yes she is fine and I relaxed.
The papers were a contract for me to sign to stay an additional 5 years. I don’t know if they thought that I was so feeble-minded I wouldn’t be able to understand what I was signing but I wasn’t falling for that. I kept my composure and once I finished reading I set the papers down and leaned back.
The man said “Sign it.”
I became worried. They were surely going to torture me until I signed it. The camera had already caught me saying that I wanted to stay longer and I like it here but anyone could see through that. Still, I didn’t know how the law of the country would deal with another signed contract with a camera as witness.
I looked up at Claudio and saw that he was enjoying my anxiety. My eyes wandered a bit and lost focus, looking at a spot on the other side of the room. At that moment, I despaired.
I did not sign the contract until the next day, again in front of the camera. It was not that I resisted. I was just crying too much to sign it.
I lost the will to live. I no longer tried to please my Master, I no longer tried to think about my reason for being here, I no longer tried to enjoy brief pleasure such as eating and showering, I simply existed. Torture was the only thing to temporarily bring me out of my lethargy but only as a reaction to the pain. Time had no meaning so I have no idea how long I suffered in this way.
One day I woke up in my cell to see Megan standing over me. Hands were helping me stand and I thought that I would be going to heaven. I smiled and Megan’s face turned into the face of a man in a uniform. I then felt a pin prick in my arm and fell back unconscious.
I woke up in a hospital. I knew it was a dream so I did not react even when Megan called for the doctor and asked with great concern if I felt okay. It was a nice dream. I did this for Megan and here she is trying to console me.
It was time to die, a satisfied man. I had accomplished what I set out to do. I closed my eyes for the last time.
But it wasn’t the last time. Why am I awake again in the hospital? Megan is here. She does not need to console me anymore. I do not want her thanks, just live and be happy.
A doctor was next to Megan and he was talking to me. No-one talks to me like that. I am just a slave. Where is Claudio? Where is Madam?
Then I felt warmth in my hand. This can’t be. It seems as though Megan is holding and caressing my hand. I said “Megan?”
Megan leaned forward to look at me and said “Yes Dad?” When I didn’t respond she said “Dad, are you okay?”
I said “Where is Claudio?”
The doctor responded “In jail.”
Megan said “Dad, how do you feel? Physically.”
I owed Megan a response. After all she had been through it would have been selfish of me to not try to pull my thoughts together. I said in surprise “I don’t feel any pain.” I am always in pain from torture. How did the pain stop?
The doctor said “Mike, just relax, you need to rest.” Was he talking to me? My name is Cody, or slave. I was too tired to argue though so I closed my eyes.
That was almost 2 years ago. One week after my reawakening in the hospital, Megan explained to me what happened. I was still getting used to the electric wheelchair which was rented from donations raised through her internet campaign so I just sat and listened.
Megan’s operation was a success as surgeons had predicted. She would still need to take medication every day of her life but the side effects were not severe and she could otherwise lead a normal life.
She was not a normal lady, though. Once she had recuperated enough from surgery she quickly learned of my slavery and started a furious research project on the subject. She started a public campaign against this type of consensual slavery and gathered online signatures, also helping raise awareness about the more standard types of horrible slavery still very prevalent in the world.
Unfortunately, the country which was the target of her campaign did not have a good method for enacting changes of law and despite all of her efforts there was no change during the 5 years of my slavery. I read between the lines of her story and later found out that she had threatened to form protests against several government officials both in that country and in our own country but fortunately had not followed through as that could have hurt her cause.
With only a few months remaining in my initial contract of slavery Megan added a donation link which would allow her to afford hospital and recovery care for me if I needed it, with any unused money going into the main fund fighting against slavery in the world. This money was used to rent my wheelchair, pay for my hospital stay, and arrange for 24 hour care for a few additional weeks.
When my initial 5 years were up, with the help of other activist lawyers Megan had finally gotten through to the legislature of that country which, after many months, agreed to debate the issue though there is still no final word on their infrequent discussions. I had mixed feelings about this since Megan would have died without my slavery. In fact, I wanted to protest to say that I was glad Megan was alive but I did not want to get in the way of my wonderful and amazing daughter’s efforts.
My imprisonment contract signing changed the focus. Megan told me that she was furious since it was clear that I was coerced into signing it. She went to counseling to control her anger while at the same time hired lawyers to get me out. Megan began to describe some of the legal arguments and precedents used but I was lost in all of the details. The bottom line is that it eventually worked and it is why I am here today.
Lawyers also helped courts decide that my owners had violated the terms of the original contract since I was severely psychologically damaged which affected my physical well-being. Wording in the contract meant to address that was not sufficient and the simple fact that I would not be able to walk steadily for at least a few months violated the contract.
I still thought of Claudio as my Master. Psychological counseling is emotionally painful but I am told that it is necessary. It seems silly but whenever I see a man of a certain type of European heritage I experience a feeling of terror and submission. Nightmares are a given, I don’t think I will ever sleep well again. I have other issues but I would rather not detail those here.
What I have above all else is Megan. Seeing her sense of resolve reminds me of her mother and makes me feel very comfortable in my decision 7 years ago. If I had to do it all over again, I would.
Word Count = 15,200
See all my stories at http://www.assdisc.com.