And this is how we get past Facebook censors! LoL! Click below;
https://xhamster.com/videos/there-is-no-out-blackmail-5187841
Category: Control
I’m coming. You won’t be.
If you don’t already know Ms. Renee Lane, author of Finding Love through Female Domination, she is a sadist. She truly revels in making men squirm and in torturing their minds. Case in point – for three days in a row she has posted writings about chastity; how every woman should make it a prerequisite for their future romantic partners, how male orgasms are merely a tool given by the Goddess to control men, how it turns her on to have the power to take them away at her whim. How she is going to discuss chastity with each of her ‘knights’ as she calls the men serving her in promoting her book and movie.
“Slowly I’m going to start tightening the screws on them. They will get to know the real me.”
Her sadistry is as effective as it is evil and brilliant. I dread opening Fetlife now for fear of seeing a red 1 on my message box. I envision her as the plague doctor inexorably coming to knock at my door. She has made it perfectly clear she is coming as she has deliciously drawn out our fear of her with post after post, all for her own cruel pleasure. Each new post adding to the steady drip, drip of the inevitable tide coming to drown us in our own submission to her pursuit of empowering women over men.
To be clear, I dislike being locked chastity. I do not wish to be put into chastity. I’ve written an entire treatise on why I don’t like chastity that was even quoted in Ms. Voltairine’s book 150 Years of Gynarchy …
and I know my protests will just make taking away my ability to have an orgasm all the more luscious for her.
“…you are on a slippery slope. Such behavior can sometimes be a gateway drug that may eventually lead you to become a initiate at the North American Queendom. It may already be too late for you.”
My hands are ice cold and I tremble in fear, because I know when her knock at my door comes, I won’t be able to deny her her sadistic pleasure. It is already far to late for me. I will buy a DreamLover remote controlled chastity device if she tells me it’s what she desires. I won’t give up my orgasms – she will take them. That is within her power. And what will become of the key… ?
Welcome Home
by MiaACTION
He promised Mia that he would be waiting at her doorstep every afternoon at 3 PM when she arrived home from work. During each encounter, he was expected to wear a t-shirt that simply read “WELCOME” in black, bold letters.
he was expected to be waiting patiently, splayed out on his back, ready to accept Her boots on his groin, torso and face. She explained to him that it was especially important that he was ready for Her on rainy days, to be sure that Her boots were properly cleaned before entering Her house. The rainy days were particularly unpleasant for him. If mud made its way into the crevices of Her boots, he was to use his tongue to dislodge it until the boots were licked clean.
Sometimes on days where She was particularly stressed, She would use Her doormat more aggressively. Commenting on how especially dirty her shoes became on the commute home from the office, She’d take Her time wiping Her feet against his slacks. If She was in a really fowl mood, She would take sadistic pleasure in stomping his testicles for good measure, putting her full weight on his stomach and jumping up and down.
She would tell him about all the mind numbing stupidity She was expected to put up with at the hands of Her male coworkers, who were, as she relayed to Her doormat, largely incompetent. She confided in him that She fantasized about fashioning a walkway beginning at the start of Her driveway, leading all the way to the front door, comprised of Her male colleagues. All the men who expected that She laugh at their cringe-inducing jokes. All the men who insisted that they are “huggers” and grab at Her with the emotional intuition of a goldfish, completely oblivious to the fact that Her face contorts with disgust any time one of them comes within five feet of Her. Every time She’s relegated to “coffee duty” or referred to as “honey,” she retreats wistfully into Herself, eager to arrive home and wipe her hands (and feet) clean of another degrading day at the office. She would count the minutes until She could use and abuse Her doormat. Doormats don’t tell jokes, give hugs, or talk back.
She would take great care to gleefully stomp on every single one of their diaphragms as She made Her way to Her coveted doormat. And finally, She would scrape the vitriol from the workday against the doormat’s teeth, and leave him outside, his business casual attire disheveled, with a mouth full of brown grit.
The Look
What do you see in her eyes? Fear? Absolute obedience in the face of humiliation and pain? Devotion to whatever Mistress asks of her? A strong desire to be pleasing? Intense focus on her Mistress’ actions?
And the Mistress, her master… relaxed in her absolute power? Pleasure? Amusement?
That’s it all in a nutshell for me.
The full video here .
THE VICTORY OF SURRENDER
We perceive that only through utter defeat are we able to take our first steps toward liberation and strength. Our admissions of personal powerlessness finally turn out to be firm bedrock upon which happy and purposeful lives may be built.
Emasculated for Mistress and Her Friend
by Mias_bitch
i was very fortunate to be loaned out to Mistress’s Friend last weekend to clean Her apartment while the two Ladies caught up and relaxed. my Mistress’s Friend enjoys sissies, so i dressed in a pair of pink panties, knee high white socks with red stripes, and a small pink crop top with string shoulder straps. i wore my leather collar and chastity cage as usual too, the latter making me feel all the more emasculated in my girlish attire.
On the way over Mistress placed an expensive sushi order that She had me pick up and pay for. A token of gratitude to Her and Her Friend for letting me serve, Mistress always has me treat Her Friends to lunch.
When we arrived my Mistress had me change into the outfit in front of Them to Her Friends delight, kneel, and lay out all my cleaning supplies before them. In the rush to come over that afternoon, I had neglected to bring toilet bowl cleaner, but had assumed Mistress’s Friend would have some. She did not, and as punishment had me stand up so She could give my Pink panties a wedgie before having me bend down to spank me on the ass. Once She was finished the two Ladies sent me on my way to clean the downstairs bathroom, while they dined on the sushi i bought.
For the first hour and a half I was largely alone. i could hear the two Ladies talking upstairs, and at one point Mistress’s Friend appeared behind me causing me to jump as i was scrubbing the floor. She told me to stay where i was and gave me a few spanks on the butt cheeks, before retrieving what She came down for an went back up.
When i finished, and came back upstairs, the Ladies permitted me a glass of water, and had me clean up their plates, before starting me in the kitchen while they continued conversing in the other room.
Domestic service for Mistress’s Friends was always like that, collared, naked or scantily dressed, ceaselessly toiling with little brake while the Women could be heard relaxing in some other room. i wasn’t there for play, or to make Them perform for me, i was there to be used. i was there to work, and to spoil Them. It wasn’t fantasy, They are empowered Women and i just a man to be used.
In those moments, working and alone i imagine what other men might think of me; locked in my cock cage and emasculated for the Ladies amusement. A tool doing all the Ladies housework without any reward but to be denied my manhood, mocked, teased, and used to buy things. What a pathetic little bitch i’ve been reduced to. So hot.
Once i had finished in the kitchen, i was permitted to dust the room the Ladies were in. Mistress’s Friend made a comment about checking out my butt, and They started having me arch my back for them as i bent to clean. At one point they had me show them my “bend & snap” laughing at my expense as they educated me as to what that was to my clumsy attempts.
When four hours had passed, and it was time to go, my Mistress’s Friend asked about rewarding me to which my Mistress responded that getting to buy Them sushi was reward enough. They had a good laugh, and i was permitted to kiss the Friends feet as a consolation.
Later that evening my Mistress informed me that Her Friend had sent Her a video of me dusting that She had taken. Her Friend, like my Mistress, is a ProDomme as well and She was posting the video on twitter as part of Her social media presence; letting all Her followers see what a good little bitch i was for them that afternoon.
Housebitch
Just an object to me.
Objectification is a kink of mine. One of the things that rolls through my mind when I see images like these is what torture and training went on before hand to convince the ‘victim’ to remain still and silent at all costs?
It is not just the slow simmering humiliation of just being used and ignored, but the slow painful torture of having to maintain a pose for a prolonged period in silence and obedience.
I have a punishment cage that feeds that kink in me. It is very small and being cramped in it slowly becomes torture…
(sorry the images are of bound women, but there are not a lot of images of men being used like this)
Sasha’s Basement
by Mias_Bitch
Sasha’s basement started as a sort of joke. When they were younger, before any of them had started doing any sex work, Sasha and three of Her other Queer friends used to hang out in the walk out basement at Sasha’s apartment. They would use the space to drink beers, and discuss Feminist Theory, and radical left politics. Sex work was always a hot topic among the four, as men are so easily led by their urges and to be able to control those urges is greatly empowering to Women.
As a joke one day, Sasha placed an add on a dating app. She wanted to see if they could get a man to come and strip for the four of them, but also make the desperate man pay them for the opportunity. The response was overwhelming, and soon the four friends started charging Men at the door to come by to strip for them, and otherwise degrade them sexually. The four Women’s disdain for patriarchy, and delight in exerting power over men shown through in their games, and the men found it irresistible.
As time went on, and the four friends matured as Sex Worker’s they refined their operation. With an overwhelming demand for their abuse the Women could afford to be picky. Only clients who could commit to indefinite chastity to keep them desperately coming back for regular use. Only clients who understood that the true power exchange for their Masters was separating them from their money. Pushy demanding clients were not tolerated, only the meekest and most easily manipulated.
So was it, that the four Women commoditized their clients. Locked in their cock cages the men would seek out their keepers at their desperate leisure, more than willing to pay steep entry fees to hang out in the basement with the four Goddesses. Once through the door they were stripped down to their cages, and collared to be mocked, abused, or sometimes just ignored. The women spit on the men, and put cigarettes out on them, openly expressing their disdain towards men. The spoke openly about how they saw their clients as commodities, and trumpeted the redistribution of male wealth. The Women would even offer degrading sex acts to their wide eyed desperate slaves, charging them hundreds in addition to what had already paid to get in for the opportunity lick their assholes, or have them pee in their mouths.
Furthering the operation, the Women started photographing the men to sell on Sasha’s new website “Sasha’s basement”. Carefully selected from immense demand, the men knew their enslavement by the Women meant they would have to risk the exposure. The Women also got in the habit of taking selfies with their clients for their own social media. Photos of them casually looming over their naked, cage, and collar prey. On their knees, the men would pose like this, wads of cash from their tribute held in their mouths. The Women displayed the selfies proudly on their feeds, espousing their fight against Patriarchy, and thoughts on redistributing male wealth; to the encouragement and amusement of their friends and salvation of their male followers. For dual branding and advertising the Women would plug the website with the hashtag #Sashas Basement.
What none of the Women foresaw, was when the hashtag started popping up in their feeds from other locations. Women, queer, non-binary, and trans folk from all over, some sex workers, some not. The posts were all similar, the posters displaying their chaste, scantily attired, eager men, broken and kneeling cash in mouth, yielding their power to their beautiful Masters. #Sashas Basement
I love you so much
bygirlztoy2087866M sub
Waves of post-orgasmic bliss, gradually subsiding, washed over her body like a gentle sea. She gently extricated her arm from under her already sleeping lover’s neck. As always, Paul had been amazing. He started like a violinist, playing her body with infinite finesse. Paul could read, and even anticipate, her reactivity like none before. Gradually, reading her rising plateau, Paul would evolve into a thundering but exquisitely controlled stallion- he always made sure they climaxed together. She turned on her side and said, “I love you so much.” But she was talking not to Paul, but to the baby monitor transmitter on the nightstand.
Rising, she hunched a bit and, using her fingers, pinched her lips closed to retain as much of Paul’s three emissions inside her as possible and walked into the master bath. She closed the door and put the dimmer switch on low, opening the door to walk in closet. There she took in her husband. He was on his back on a padded piano bench, legs up at a 45 degree angle and fully spread, ankle cuffs tied off to cleats in the opposing walls. His wrist cuffs were clipped into eye bolts sunk into the side of the bench seat. His shoulders were looped to each other and tied off under the bench with a white silk sash. His pink chastity cage was where it had been for the past four weeks. His breathe through penis gag was secured with a little slack so that he could feel its glans move in his mouth. The lace trimmed black satin eye mask had assured no sensory distraction from what he heard through the headphones spliced into the baby monitor base unit. She removed the headphones, eye mask and penis gag.
Turning, she backed up and lowered herself over his waiting tongue. Elbows on knees, she hovered just above his mouth so he could clean her outside. He began with the broad sweeping tongue strokes he knew she liked. After a short while, satisfied that she was clean outside, she lowered herself onto his mouth and felt the scouring begin. “Do you like the taste of Paul’s semen? How does it make you feel to lick another man’s semen out of the love of your life?” She smiled, feeling the silent tears at the top of her inner thighs.
Slowly, the cleaning done, she could tell he was trying to pleasure her instead. “His little rebellion,” she thought to herself. “I really shouldn’t. But it’s feels so good.” She abandoned herself to the slowly rising crescendo before exploding in spasms of pelvic pleasure.
Recovering, she turned and sat again, facing his body, Taking the Magic Wand from the shelf she turned it on low and began lightly tracing his testicles. “Aw, poor thing, do your plump testes yearn to be emptied after four weeks?”
“Don’t worry, I won’t tease you long. You have a big day tomorrow and need your sleep”
“Miss Patricia is bringing plaything over for one of the play dates i know you love so much. First, we’re going to have a morning of beauty and shopping. I’ve even picked out a special outfit for you to wear. The red and white seersucker shortalls- you know, the ones with the ruffled eyelet at the leg openings. Your white blouse with the pearl buttons, Peter Pan collar and the puffed, pleated cap sleeves with the button and tab cuff. And of course, ruffled anklets with your pink stack heeled Mary Janes. And underneath, I think your magenta panty and camisole set should show nicely through the blouse.
“We’ll start at my salon for fresh waxings and mani-pedi’s. And that cute receptionist just turned18 and is dying to finally be the one to unlock, remove and replace the chastity cages.”
“Then, it’s on to the mall. I’ve made arrangements at Nordtrom for you two to be fitted for lingerie in the bridal boutique in anticipation of the festivities to come. And then finally, you’ll each be getting a makeover at the MAC Counter. What a delicious morning. I’m sure you two will be just beaming at the attention, walking pinky-linked and exchanging chaste kisses.”
“When we get home, your stepdaughter, Kelly is bringing three freshman who were just initiated into Tri-Delt. They coming for a concert, but pausing for afternoon amusements on the way. And they are dying to play with you two. They’re bringing the Tri-Delt paddle which isn’t used at the House anymore, but promises to get a workout tomorrow. And what young woman would not relish the opportunity to experiment with a strap-on for the first time. Finally, Kelly said the Sisters were absolutely agog on learning about urethral sounding. Kelly says they can’t wait to do that to a nice, hard penis.”
“When playtime is done, it will be time for High Tea from our scantily uniformed french maids. Elle and Bree from your office will be arriving for tea. I had offered to let them watch on their phones, but when they heard what was coming, they begged so sweetly to be here, I couldn’t say no.”
“And finally, we come to the “climax” of our day of innocent fun. Miss Patricia and I agreed that it would be so special for you two, if the first you two had gay sex together, it was for the amusement of an audience of younger women. The freshmen will remove your maid uniforms and redress you both in your bridal lingerie. The guest room mattress with a black satin fitted sheet will be in the family. the black should show off your bridal frillies nicely and also denote any spilled semen that needs to be licked up. And after four weeks of chastity, the semen should be in more than ample supply. And you two will be recycling all of it. We’re going to let the younger women choreograph what you two do with each other but Miss Patricia and I will be standing by with rattans to ensure the proper sensuous enthusiasm for the video they’ll all be taking.”
“Sweety, lift your head so I can fit the CPAP over your mouth and nose. I filled it with urine this morning so it should be luxuriously stale by now. Now the headphones so our lovemaking can be your alarm clock. Paul will be good for at least two more loads which will make a yummy appetizer before your daily gruel.”
She closed the door, turned out the light and climbed back into bed. She turned to the baby monitor and whispered, “I love you so much.”
Some Experiences using Stress Receptacle
The are vignettes. I will add to them when I can. Thanks, Dora, for showing me the way to do it. We’ll always have Bristol, LOL!
I remember one of the first times I had cuck meet me. It was in a bar and he was trying to talk me out of making him my permanent stress bin, of fitting him onto my foot like a comfortable shoe and wearing him until he was completely worn out. I love shoes. Cuck was a shoe. I would have loved to literally be inside his tiny mind when he first realized that life as he knew it was over. The panic, the pissing of the pants, well the psychic pants, the other came later. The churning gut, the feeling that no matter how he tried, he just couldn’t think of himself as a real man anymore, but only an object. I wonder if the picture of a shoe dangling from a heel entered his thoughts? In any case, he was trying to talk me out of it. He was trapped and he knew it. After letting him go on for a while, spewing his bloody nonsense, I reached over when none of the other diners were watching, took a paper napkin and shoved it into his mouth slowly. His eyes got big, his hands started to lift to stop me then paused. His eyes grew dull for a moment and I thought I saw a little tear form in the corner of one of them. He knew that he had no power. I could ruin him and he would do anything to keep that from happening. He closed his mouth and to the casual viewer he had only slightly puffed cheeks, like a squirrel. My appetizer came then and I told cuck how things were going to be from now on, why he was a loser for getting himself into such a situation through the poor management of his appendage, and just how much I deserved to enjoy this experience. It took at least twenty minutes. Cuck bought the martini. I placed my shoe between his sweating crotch under the table and he was certainly aware of it. Little did he know what he would become even six months later. I felt a rush. This was one of the more enjoyable experiences. They don’t all have to be crying, gasping for air, begging, crawling, and hopping. The look on his face was priceless.
Cuckpuppy struggled. He struggled hard. I hadn’t turned him into an “it” quite yet. He had a home and wife and he worked really hard to keep everything separated, and of course I supported him in that. I wasn’t about to ruin a lifetime of fun at the snap of a finger. Well, maybe he thought I was but that was the fun part. I enjoyed watching him struggle and always made sure to keep his leash taught but not let it break. Eventually he dovetailed home life and his real life, the one that he could not get out of his mind at home, in meetings where red ties were ringed around the table. In the process his ego melted across the floor. Oh, it took months but they were good months-for me. Cuck regularized his schedule and I was able to use him several times a month. Of course, I had another sub, but somehow that never satisfied the way cuck did. I kept the sub and even used him with cuck a few times but eventually I just wasn’t able to exercise a satisfying amount of control over him the way I could over poor cuck.
*addendum to 1.
When I was finished eating I took the soaked paper napkin from cuck’s round mouth. Beads of sweat had formed on his brow. “Clean the crumbs. ” He hesitated for a while. My finger moves suggestively over my phone. One touch of a button and cuck knew that unflattering pictures would wing away to his nearest and dearest. He pushed my fork into the remains of the mess I’d left and put it in his mouth, swallowed, did it again. I took a picture of him cleaning my plate and laughed. A tear did run down his cheek then. Six months later he had been trained to accept my saliva in his open mouth at the snap of my fingers while I’m holding a remote shocker. Life is good.
- Rubber Ducky Day! Fun party with a few friends to play with rubbery things. I volunteered cuckpuppy for the experiment and allowed it to try to show why we shouldn’t pick it by licking the shoes of the five or six observers clean. Sadly, it’s case was voted down and it was fitted out with tight rubber underwear and mask, with hands bound to ankles to make the duckwalk really authentic. Cuck’s eyes were big as my friend’s little device was screwed into the hole on the mouthgag. They grew even bigger when cuck realized that the little horn allowed for an easy exhale but a long and laborious inhale, causing increasing difficulty getting enough precious air over a ten or twenty minute period ( depending on the setting). Hilariously, the inhale sounded much like a duck call. Cuck hovered at the edge of panic as it played our game, hopping to each observer to find the token. Guessing correctly allowed it a moment of relief when the valve was opened a bit at the discretion of the tokenholder. Cruel games ensued and it didn’t take long before cuck was hopping madly in panic from person to person begging desperately with tears streamimg from it’s eyes. The soft buzzing of a vibrator from next to me let me know that my friend’s submissive had a keen interest in the proceedings. I leaned over to whisper into her ear that cuck was a blackmailed slave, trapped into the existence of being my personal stress receptacle. She orgasmed immediately. You never know what wicked things people really enjoy in their darkest thoughts.What good friends and what a lovely party.! We continued having fun into the evening.
4.”Why me?” Cuck said, especially in the first part of our relationship. And it is a real relationship no matter what the social community says a relationship should be. A defense of that, what a real power-relationship should be-is something I may write about later on. For now we are back to cuck and his pathetic predicament.
“Because you are here?”. “Because you put yourself in this situation?” Because you are one of those males who have no control over yourself?”
It isn’t what I say. It’s what it is. Karma. Being in the wrong place at the right time. What the Fates will? Because your Karma determines it?
This is where you are. Deal with it.
I loved those first months where I watched his ego melt at my feet. I hope others can find that joy. “Because you are Mine, cuckpuppy. Because you are Mine.”
- Once Upon a Time cuckpuppy wasn’t an “it”. It was in transition to an “it” and was exuding loads of energy which I rightfully gobbled up. Cuck is my battery. Any sadist knows the elemental structure of how energy works. You find the Battery, fix it in place, and torture it so that it releases karmic sweet stuff to you. In the process the battery suffers but, hey, destiny, karma, all that.
I remember the firs time I think cuck realized that he was actually becoming my Personal Stress Receptacle. You can see into their soul in such a moment and they can see into yours and watch it spread like a glorious sail in the winds of their frustration and suffering.
All it took was a chastity cage, ball shocker, a remote, and a plastic bag. Four simple things and a mind was rewired. I’ve trained cuck to only get aroused by feet. The smell of feet, the feel of feet and the taste of feet. Mine, a friend’s, an old shoe, it doesn’t matter. Cuck’s brain has literally been rewired. Why feet? No reason really. Because cuck hated licking feet. Because it was humiliating. Because it was funny for me and my friends to watch. I think cuck realizes that now. That what happened to it was my random whim. Imagine how that feels! But there is nothing it can do about it. Shall I share more details about this?
addendum to 5
cuck’s indiscretion has gotten it to this state. It knows it is a loser in life. It gladly signed notarized papers asking, begging, for this to happen to it. So did dogboy in Atlanta Did they have a choice? Poor cuck must taste feet all the time. When it is eating there must be that taste in the back of it’s mind, palpably on the tongue. A glass of wine-a friend’s boot that it licked clean just before being released from chastity for five frenetic minutes and followed by the taste of it’s own mess. A nice meal at a restaurant with it’s unsuspecting family-the taste of my feet after an exercise session. Now it’s tiny mind has been rewired, just like a real doggy, to associate with the taste and action of cleaning feet, usually mine but occasionally that of a friend or random Domme to whom I may lend it. Derisive laughter, the taste of feet and boots, humiliation. An animal is easy to rewire. Bye bye human brain, hello agony puppet and stress bin. Life is good.
- I often go barefoot in the house. It isn’t too dirty, cuck sees to that, but sometimes a girl needs her feet cleaned. Don’t you think I deserve it? cuck didn’t but it changed it’s mind very quickly when I began using a plastic bag over it’s head combined with an electric remote ball shocker. At first cuck didn’t want to be a receptacle for the dirt on my feet. Oh, it cleaned well enough and took some whipping and humiliation in order not to have it’s photos sent out to various parties but it just didn’t seem quite as eager, to do the real dirty work required of a Personal Receptacle. I don’t know if cuck thought my thumb would get tired of pressing the button and sending the increasingly agonizing shock to it’s tiny balls but that isn’t the way sadists are made. When it cried out and tears ran down it’s face it only made me want to do it more. And more and more. And I could, because cuck was all out of choices. Life as it knew it was over and my life, the one that really mattered, was beginning. I keep wondering if, as it was hopping madly in the harness I’d wrapped it in to lick my feet clean for the very first time, it’s mind didn’t flash back to that fateful day when it arrived to let me practice some light bondage on it, happily kinky and unaware of it’s fate. Tight bondage, some “interesting props”, a mask slowly removed to the flash of the camera. “No, please, not my face”, was now “Woof Woof!” Cuck understands it’s purpose now as does dogboy.
My feet were shiny clean and cuck was swallowing the dust. Spots of it’s tears dotted the floor beneath it’s bound, crouching body. At a later stage of training I would make it lick up any tear stains. We can’t have that, after all and I love to have it shove down and internalize it’s frustration. I wonder what my feet tasted like to it on that first, horrifically humiliating day, when it realized that the shocks would continue until it did exactly as I wanted, when it knew that it would do anything for me because I could ruin it’s world in a second, because I was a superior woman and it was my dog? I wonder but not too much. After all, I’m not a dog.
Speaking of these things there is more to come. Doggies clean up after you don’t they? It might be too yucky to relate but it is hilarious. I’m thinking about whether to write more on #6 and doggy food training…..
Blackmailed into puppetry
I always find it delicious when I feel the panic in their heaving breast, in their breath, in their loins, the esoteric energies rushing forth like the waters of life fleeing captivity, the nerves screaming a trapped animal feeling, sending signals to every part of the straining body that it must escape this new hell. Of course with the Blackmailed slave there is the singular exception that it is human and cannot just run away from thew conditions that bind it to pain, humiliation, and slavery. It must live with its new life, swallowing all these on a daily basis, pathetically struggling, always kept moving between denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance but never allowed to rest in any one state permanently. Kubler-Ross might never have expected the her model to be put to use by sadists but then perhaps she would have enjoyed puppets situation and the pathetic level to which its life had degenerated. Perhaps the torments of hell are made finer by knowing that others are watching the emotions pulled from the unwilling victim like a long string wound around the soul. As the soul unravels one has the sensation of poignancy amplified by the victim’s hopeless struggle. The slow sinking of a desperate beauty in a pit of quicksand may be the only correspondence, a pale one. One of the nicer things about watching a slave in this position is its knowledge that others are going about their daily existence, enjoying their lives, while it suffers in secrecy and enforced silence. I think a lot of us find that pretty hot, don’t you?.
And so puppet was highly motivated to obey. After all it didn’t want all those pictures going out to the various addresses, both electronically and via snail mail. That could be quite embarrassing couldn’t it? One might lose everything, even the will to live. Better to suffer, better to become a receptacle for the pleasure of others, better to survive, even in a hell that was controlled by the very sadistic demons one had once called up to give one pleasure. Karma is a bitch isn’t it?
But puppet wasn’t quite motivated enough and K had asked me to help it discover itself by shedding its ego. The idea was to jump-start the process of Ego Snuffing in order to turn it into a better battery for others. After all it’s energy now belonged to its Owners and the esoteric House it had tried to disrupt.
Puppet needed punishment for the sin of disrespect and I was only too glad to escort it to the Piss Tank for a long overdue session of ego snuffing. Though it was male and I have little interest in that gender other than friendship I was delighted to help out a fellow Acolyte by handling her Blackmailed slave, a pathetic creature who resided in my city. As a sadist adept at pulling energy from the deep well of batteries that life produces in any creature, I knew I would find something to appreciate in structuring life for a puppet who had just gotten itself in a little over its head. Now its complacent middle-american life was going to be derailed, sent into a tailspin, stepped on by people far better than it, and used for the pleasure of those who deserved to have their own Personal Stress Receptacle, something every real person could use. Few have their own waste bin in which to dump the daily stresses of work and life. We are the exceptional few…and puppet regrets this hard fact every day of its life.
The occasion of puppet’s ego erasure was one night when it was summoned to attend me at a House where the only ego allowed was the one borne by Owners. In this House there were the Owned and the Owners and no one could mistake the two. Puppet had been there in attendance with me once before as a servant slave at a relatively quiet evening there while a slave was being punished as an example. The punishment was quite excrutiating, rather to the mind than the body.
But let me give you a description of the Piss Tank:
….work in progress