• Sign up or login, and you'll have full access to opportunities of forum.
Go to CruxDreams.com
Our mistress keeps us shackled. Full manacles and fetters shackled together, allowing us to stand with our hands at our waist.. We all wear our slave collars welded around our neck with a short leash chain attached. Of course slaves are not permitted to stand in the presence of our Mistress and must fall to our knees and grovel.

When greeting our Mistress it is acceptable to fall to our knees, grovel and beg “please grant your merciful whip to this worthless slave” and otherwise be silent.

Our shackles makes our work in the quarry and fields difficult but the overseers take no mercy as we work under the lash.

For clothing a slave is not permitted pants but must wear a slave skirt or loincloth skirt. Our private parts may not be covered except by the skirt.

For us male slaves, wearing a skirt is considered cross dressing and invokes beautiful punishment at the whim of our mistress.

Today I am leashed and dragged to her feet. I grovel and beg to be whipped like a good slave.

Mistress, holding her cruelest single tail in her right hand, lashes me several times, and gazes down at my wretchedness. She asks why I am wearing a skirt?

“Mistress, this miserable slave is only permitted to wear a slave skirt”

Whooosh - tack! The whip cracks against my back...

She continues with a dozen quick lashes before continuing.

“I did not give you permission to speak, worm, I will add 50 lashes to your punishment!”

“Chain it to the whipping post. Prepare an array of whips. The punishment for cross dressing is 100 lashes! This slave is to be whipped 150 times. I will choose the instruments.”

I am dragged to the post - my wrists are placed in the shackles at the top of the post. My leash is also secured to it. My legs remain shackled and I am upon my knees... A brutish overseer is brought forward, we slaves fear him and only know him as Whipmaster.

My mistress instructs “I expect you to count, slave, and on every stroke you will also cry out “slave”, do you understand, you may speak”

“Yes Mistress “

“And if you lose count, slave, another 10 lashes will be added for your insolence, understood?”

“Yes Mistress “

“Very well, Whipmaster- start with the camel whip for 30 strokes. Begin”

Whoosh - tack!

“1, slave!” I say

Whoosh - tack!

“2, slave!”

... the whipping continues. “3, slave! 4, slave!”...

After 30 lashes I am content, knowing my place, and have kept count without crying out.

Mistress proclaims to now use the long single tail whip for the next 40...

It makes more of a whistling sound and inflicts more pain

Whir- slash!

“31, slave!”

32, 33,34... by the 50th lash I am in discomfort but knowing I deserve this, keep pace ... “50, sla-ave!” I begin to whimper

“51, sla-ave!” Tears are rolling down my face...


At the 65th lash I cry out in pain as the lash cuts a stripe exactly on another, I almost miss the count “Aaaii... sixty... sixty- five, slave!”

I don’t see it but my mistress smirks. She enjoys seeing the whip master at work and the sufferings of her slaves...

The count reaches 69, (“69, slave!”) and then the Whipmaster makes an extra effort , the whirring sound lasts much longer and as it cracks against my back the pain is exquisite

“Aaaaaaaaaaa!!! Aiiiiii! Sev.... Sev, awwww, seventy, slaaaaave!” I stammer.

Mistress turns to the Whipmaster, “Thank you Whipmaster, I’m sure wielding the lash is tiring, I shall take over from here!”

Even though he is also a slave, like all the overseers his station is much higher than this poor lowly worthless slave.

Mistress selects a bullwhip! I am in fear as I see the cruel look in her eyes, I shall be torn to ribbons. My dick has gone completely hard, I am in a painful ecstasy and we are not half way....

She cracks the bull whip over my head as she determines the correct distance. I know she’s an expert torturer and I am ecstatic at the prospect of the coming agony!

Whooooooooo- crack!!! The crack sounds like a gunshot and she has timed it so the cracker hits me at maximum velocity!!

I cannot help but scream, but manage to remember “71, sla-a-ve....”


I do not scream on the 72nd but the 73rd catches my underarm and I scream again!


“AAAIIIiIIiii! Se-sev- seventy three, sla-a-ve....” I piss myself....

“You are a pathetic slave, this will not go easy on you”

Her arm is fresh and she continues brutally.


The bullwhip is cruel, yet I crave more as the Blood trickles from my wounds and she reaches 80, 90, 100 strokes....

Whoooo-crack, Whoooo-crack, Whoooo-crack!!!

I am so turned on, the pain is immense. A slave always loves to reach 100 strokes, it is a fitting and proper minimum for slave punishment.

“Aiiiii! One hundred and one, slave” I scream at every stroke and my count is a whisper, “slave” is barely audible

Mistress orders a bucket of brine poured over my wounds and I wail in complete agony. I am so rock hard and turned on I can’t believe I haven’t cum.

While I still wail she slashes me again, (Whoooo-crackone of the most brutal lashes I have ever received from the bullwhip, and I scream in both complete agony and ecstasy as I cum hard all over my loincloth and it drips onto the ground in great gobbetts...

My senses are overloaded from ecstasy and pain!

I am still screaming from the lash but finally remember I must respond, and say “one hundred... and... t... t... three, slave....”

Mistress notices immediately “you miserable cur, slave you are pathetic, trying to fool your mistress are you? You knew the penalty for making a miscount, SLAVE! Another 10 lashes. You didn’t try to deceive the Whipmaster, but me, your mistress, your goddess, your life”

“What am I to do to you now, worthless slave?”

“You had better keep count, this will only get worse for you now! Because it is I, you shall have another twenty added to the count, and you had better get the count right from here. I will also be considering extra punishment for your insolence! What say you, pathetic whip-slave? you may answer!”

If I wasn’t in chains I would have groveled at her feet, kissing the earth beneath her....

“Oh mistress, I beg for your mercy!!! Punish me severely, I kiss your whip and savour each taste you give me. Humiliate me mistress, Degrade me, I am your eternal worthless slave and relish my punishment. Please please please whip me, this slave begs you for the merciful whip!!!” I am sobbing, I deserve this, and my dick stirs once more.

“Very well, slave, I am in a merciful mood today!”

Without warning the bullwhip cracks across my buttocks, tearing some of my loincloth. Mistress is using her full strength and each lash is worse than the last.

I whimper but proudly proclaim “103, slave!”

I am surprised to hear mistress speak “good slave!”

Oh my heart bursts with joy! I am so happy, I am her slave and she acknowledged miserable me!


She continues to strike, the pain is excruciating “104, slave” ; “105, slave”....

The bull whip fulfills its gruesome promise, tearing my flesh, blood staining my loincloth and the ground beneath me. My spatter also covers the whipping post.


At 120 (slave) there is a pause.

Mistress orders another bucket of brine tipped over my wounds and I scream again.
She then has my leash unhooked from the whipping post. She approaches.

“Slave is thirsty, open your mouth!”

I am blessed, she pisses into my mouth and I drink every drop as I have never been so thirsty in all my life! My cock grows harder again and I am in ecstasy. Mistress then orders me to lick her woman hood and picks up a riding crop whip, saying “these shall not count but are to encourage you in your task”

I have never been in this much agony or this much ecstasy as I spend the next 30 minutes bringing my mistress to multiple orgasms while she teasingly whips me mainly on my arms and upper back with her short whip. At her crescendo I am so edged it hurts.

She tells me to open my mouth again and fills me with musky piss....

Then she stands and lovingly chains my leash back to the post.

“Now, to continue your punishment, you filthy slave!”

She selects a Cat O Nine Tails, and I am in further ecstasy, I’ve always felt the Cat is the proper whip for slave punishment, I like to call it the “Slave-whip”, and Mistress will be especially cruel, I am certain.

The unmistakable sound of the Cat through the air is like multiple whooshes of a single tail and with multiple cracks as it strikes my skin!

I cannot help but scream, like the pathetic beaten slave that I am, and continue the count “121, slave!”

The flogging continues for another 30 strokes, I am in such pain, completely exhausted, and so excited, as I never have been before. I had never taken 150 lashes at the whipping post before and I am so happy!

Another bucket of saltwater is tipped over my skin and more painful ecstasy ensues...

My cock is still hard and mistress noticing, has me unhooked from the post, ordering me to crawl to her.... She takes a seat on her leather chair as I approach. I kneel at her feet, and she allows me to look up at her. She tells me to kiss her pussy again, holding my leash tightly. As I arouse her once more and start licking her clit to bring her to orgasm she drags my leash higher and begins to kiss me! I do not see but she reaches for the crop and tells me to insert my still hard cock into her vagina but not to cum until commanded. She beats me as I slide it in and begin to rhythmically fuck her. She orgasms very quickly, whipping me harder, After thirty more minutes and two more orgasms, I fear she will deny me. I am fit to burst, as she edges closer to another orgasm. Finally she orders me to cum and I explode inside her.

She tells me to kneel and lick all the cum from her love canal and finishes off giving me another drink of her piss....

I am such a lucky slave!

Mistress has not forgotten, of course, ordering me to crawl back to the whipping post.

My body is on fire and I am spent. This is a slave’s true degradation- I have received so much pain, but I crawl back for more. My shackles bite into my skin, which is red raw from my struggling. A proper slave like me already has scars on my wrists, ankles, and neck, but now all were red and bleeding.

An overseer chains me back to the post, I am in agony. This is my heart’s desire. As a slave I’ve longed to be whipped so much! I don’t want to pass out, I am her whip-slave.

Mistress selects a new, even crueler Cat o nine tails and makes sure I can see that it is not just a whip but a scourge! This could kill me, and suddenly my dick is hard enough to hurt again!

The new whip makes a terrifying clinking sound as I wait for the next stroke. Instead she teases me with it, gently caressing my body so I might feel the barbs. Some scratch as she drags across different parts of my skin. My anticipation is palpable, I am terrified of the coming ocean of pain, yet I want it.

She steps back and swings mercilessly It sounds both different in the air and is far more devastating when it strikes!

Immediately I scream as the burning pain goes deep. I want to plead for mercy, but I dare not, and so between my screams I hoarsely say “151, slave!”

Mistress is extremely skilled, scourging different parts of my body with different strokes, eliciting screams of pain at every stroke But instead of flailing my skin off she pulls the scourge back each time as the barbs hold to withdraw them as they went in. Apparently she does not plan to scourge me to death today.

The count continues, I can barely speak but still whisper “155, sla-ave” (etc)

Of course some barbs will hold and rend my skin, on the 164th stroke many barbs catch in my shoulder and rent deep grooves in my flesh! I barely croak “164, slave,,,” before I pass out.

My mistress is extremely skillful, and would not continue my scourging while I was unconscious. Because it is pointless to beat a slave if it can’t feel the pain. Instead I was revived, more saltwater was poured over my skin. She then mercifully gave me more piss to drink.

On the next strike my happiness returned as I screamed in agony once more - “165, slave!” I said in a proud voice!

Mistress was now slashing harder into less damaged parts of my body. I was unaware but all along she carefully left them for her crescendo. Now each stroke brought an agony of such intensity I could not believe it possible!

I screamed as a beast as she rent my left flank deeply with the scourge “Aaaaaa, oooooh, aaaaaiiiii on, one, one, one hind, aaaaiiii, one huuundred and, and sixty-six, sssssla-ave” i stammered...

I was almost spent but my cock hardened some more, as the next slash came across my buttocks, rending some of my loincloth away and rending my buttocks from right to left!

I am in such agony and have never felt more enslaved which excites me! As I screamed I again managed to keep count “167, sssslave!”

Another slash, this time through my thighs, again I screamed. Desperately wanting to beg I instead continued the count ”168, slave, sob!” My tears were uncontrollable although few rolled

I noticed a pool of blood at my knees and could see it dripping profusely. So much torture, so much suffering. My loincloth skirt was torn and bloody, soaked with piss and cum.

The next slash came across my calves, which had so far received less attention but again mistress allowed the barbs to catch and tear strips of skin from my lower limb.

There are no words to describe my pain, I was the lowest slave and cruelty reigns supreme over me! I am in heaven and in hell!

“169, slave” I barely whisper

Mistress drew up her full strength and the scourge made a screaming sound as it courses throughout the air. fully followed through as the scourge rent my back below my shoulder blades from right to left.

My pain peaked even further and I screamed In extremis, before I finally croaked “170, slave! Thank you Mistress!”

"Now, slave, you are mine! Truly my worthless whip slave. Do you truly understand your utter enslavement to me now? You may speak!"

"i am my mistress' abject pain slave, i beg you to whip and punish me! . please torture me as you see fit, Mistress!!"

"Good, slave! I have many plans for you, you are to be condemned to my dungeon for more extreme torture. Today is just a taste of what delights i have in store for you. Whips and chains are only the beginning for you! i have one more gift for you now, then you can crawl in your chains under the lash to your new cell"

"What do you think of this, slave? you may speak"

"oh thank you mistress, you truly are the most wonderful, kind, cruel mistress. i will beg for every merciful torture as your faithful torture slave"

i am still chained to the whipping post.

I smell smoke, Mistress comes beside me as i recognise a brazier and glowing irons.

"This will be my final gift to you today, slave"

These irons looked very different to the smaller branding irons used to mark all slaves. These were larger and a much brighter yellowy red. Branding hurts, and so i fear what mistress has in store...

A large rod is withdrawn from the flames, i am scared now and start begging "oh please, Mistress, please have mercy! Please have mercy on this worthless slave, I beg for mercy, oh mercy, please mercy Mistress! .”

I feel and fear the intense heat as Mistress slowly moves it closer and closer. The heat is intense as she teases me with the iron. I whimper and struggle against my bonds...

Finally the Hot iron is placed on my breast, sizzling against my flesh, and i learn a new frightening level of pain! i try to flail against it but i am held fast in my chains.! i cry out in extreme agony as the iron sizzles and smokes against my breast. Even the worst Scourging is no match for this pain. i discover a new level of pain-ecstacy as my cock hardens while my skin burns...

She lets it kiss my skin Sizzling my breast for what seems an eternity before mercifully removing it.

the sound is a Ssssssszt at the beginning before becoming a muffled bubbling.

She picks up another, again teasing me with the heat licking my chest before placing it against my arm, holding in against my withering flesh as I scream and beg for mercy! Ssssszt!

“I don’t recall giving you permission to speak, slave. I was only going to kiss you with 5 of these, when will you learn? Pathetic whip slave, I shall gift you an additional 15 teach you your proper place...”

Each rod is applied to a different part of my ravaged body, sizzling mercilessly as Mistress burns me deeply. I scream for every kiss

Rod after hot iron rod is placed against different parts of my body until I lose count, all I know is excruciating pain. I scream myself hoarse and feel the blackness is near. But my cock is harder than the irons, my degrading torture again raises me to ecstasy.

My arms, legs, chest, and buttocks are covered in burn marks. I am utterly degraded, in an agony I never knew could exist. Yet I crave it, this feels so right.

I don’t know it but next will be the 20th, mistress brushes my loincloth and burns my left testicle! Ssssszt! I scream harder than I ever have, and enjoy the sweet suffering.

Finally, she chooses a thin rod with a wooden handle and the end glows white hot! It has the letters TS on the metal end from the fire. Mistress places it on my right cheek and lets it sizzle. She lets it run deepest of all. Ssssssszt.... As the pain increases so does my arous and i come so hard that the branding iron sizzles from the cum that ejaculates so high...

“You are now marked for torture, slave, you may speak”

"Oh, thank you mistress, I beg to be your pitiful slave locked in chains for torture. The whip is my salve and torture will be my comfort. Thank you Mistress!”

I have graduated from Whip-Slave to Torture-Slave. I have never been more fulfilled or excited. Complete degradation was now mine. I know Mistress will show me no mercy and introduce me to a new world of slavery and torture. She was highly skilled, I knew I had years of beautiful pain to look forward to. And, at the end, I could have the crucifixion any slave would dream of! Exquisite!

As i am released from the whipping post and put back in my shackles, I grovel and crawl under Mistresses' lash, “Move, Torture slave” (she kisses me with the slave-whip now - Whoosh tack!). I crawl painfully towards the dungeon knowing I am the happiest and luckiest slave ever.


I beg for the merciful lash as I crawl, content I am truly owned by the most beautiful, merciful, sadistic, vicious, and cruel Mistress ever...

*clinking of chains*

(Fading sounds of whip and chains, then a heavy door shuts....)
Last edited:


The slave awakened slowly. It could hear the drip of water but it was otherwise quiet. Usually the morning were full of sound as his fellow slaves awoke and cast whatever ablutions they could ahead of a long day. A thick gruel was available along with plenty of water. The predominant sounds were the linking of chains, no one but the ever present overseers spoke, but the numbers meant a hum. After half an hour they had to be ready for another day of toil. A crack of the lash signaled the beginning of the March to the quarry works and fields. Only a few further cracks of the whip disturbed the familiar sounds of a morning... it was a familiar routine.

This morning it was different fir the worthless torture slave as it awoke in unfamiliar quiet....

As it gradually woke, the pain from yesterday’s whipping and branding still burned. It’s entire body ached. Movement was difficult but there was an urgency coming from its bowels....

one thing outsiders do not realize is it is each slave’s duty to clean itself, and scat stains were strictly forbidden. The slave slowly rose to make its toilet. It was unwise to the arrangements here but eventually found the bucket within steps of its sleeping spot. It’s chains jangled and all the cuffs plus neck were painful. Simple movement opened wounds in each cuff... After the morning evacuation it looked to wash itself. Their appeared to be no tap or basin- it was accustomed to a shared basin with water taps collectively shared, and plenty of soap for all. Imagine it’s horror when it discovered a small bucket with stagnant water in limited supply. Was there no soap at all? As it searched it spotted a small bar, covered in dirt...

shuffling towards that it learned its predicament as her leash became taught, set at a length of just 6 feet. Only by painfully stretching and in pain from it’s shackles, the slave was able to reach the precious bar of dirty soap with its foot.

It sorely needed to wash, especially for the hot iron hot iron wounds which were already blistering. It sat by the bucket, took of the rags that remained of its slave skirt to both wash the worst stains off it and to use as a sponge to wash and salve its wounds. It was thirsty as well, and allowed itself to drink deeply from the bucket before adding soap to cleanse itself.

it didn’t do a very good job, being heavily shackled it was impossible to reach much of its back but was able to remove a lot of filth and blood from its tortured body.

exhausted it used up all the available water when it’s stomach rumbled. Food, was there no food at all?

the rock floor was hard but contained no nooks, it was easy to see there was nothing but the two buckets and the much reduced bar of soap fir company.

The miserable slave had done its best and was forced to accept its lot. It arranged it self in as much comfort as possible- it dare not lay on it’s tortured back and found the most comfort by kneeling in a supplication position. As it fell asleep it’s body slumped and it fell to its side, the leash growing taught just as it lay its head on the floor. This was insufficient pain to interrupt its badly needed slumber.

A sharp sound interrupted its sleep as a key unlocked the thick door to its cell. Slave greatly feared the worst, scared her mistress had come to deliver her to the chamber for ritual torture. It was proud to be a new torture slave but after yesterday found it difficult to be as enthusiastic as normal. It was however aroused by anticipation...

The door opened but it was not mistress. Distant screams could suddenly be heard. Instead a dungeon slave appeared, also in its requisite shackles and a stained grey loincloth...

it opened a basket and slave was delighted by the aromas revealed. Not just gruel, but some milk, cheese, a twist of bread and even a chicken leg! Slave was ravenous and gobbled it in short order while the other slave prepared shooting salves and astringents.They were liberally applied with special poultices applied to its burn marks from the rods.

Before it left the other slave filled the water bucket before swapping the effluent bucket with a relatively fresh replacement. Even a new bar of soap!

The first two weeks in the dungeon passed in similar fashion. Slave was pampered, albeit shackled and chained to the stone wall by it’s leash. Amazingly healing quickly her torso and limbs began to look less angry, even many of the burn marks were healing.

But it’s back, the place that bore the main brunt of Mistress’s assaults was still very painful and very sensitive to touch. Clearly there was deep scarring, which the other slave saw were bright red and only slowly turning scar brown. The torture slave would bear them for the rest of its likely to be short life.

Several days more passed, slave was recovering quickly. The door opened again revealing not the usual kindly dungeon slave but her beloved mistress.

Slave was delirious in joy, on its knees and groveling as much as possible, politely greeting its grimly Beautiful and fearful mistress “this groveling slave begs for the mercy of your whip!”

The Mistress is always Gentle with her new coming slaves for torture so restricted herself to only 6 lashes with a medium sized single tail.

Slave has almost forgotten the beautiful kiss of its mistress’s lash and how much it was under the spell of her erotic power but its cock certainly hadn’t. Slave was rock hard and intoxicated by arousal.
“Now then my new torture slave, would you like to see my beautiful dungeon? I don’t think you remember your arrival too well?”

When the slave had first arrived crawling under the lash after it’s extraordinary beating, as they reached the inside of the dungeon and closed the entry door it had passed out. Mistress had an overseer drag the pathetic slave by it’s ankle chain to its cell where he secured its leach to an iron ring on the wall. No wonder it knew nothing of what lay outside it’s cell!

The worthless slave was so eager to begin that it almost spoke out if turn but caught it self and nearly crawled on her knees as far as her leash would allow. Almost at mistress’s boots, it groveled pathetically.

“Ah, slave appears eager, very well then,” and mistress uses the slaves back as a stepping stone to reach the iron ring and unlock it.

“Today as a rare privilege, slave, you may stand in my presence, I will even allow you to kift your head and gaze upon me so long as you keep yourself lower than my chin. You may speak, worthless torture-slave!”

“oh Mistress, this pathetic slave’s heart leaps with joy at such privilege. Slave will keep my head below your chin, and drink in your visual magnificence! Thank you!”

A casual observer might think they were about to embark on a casual stroll in a pretty park! No, this wasn’t such, it was instead the continuance of a dark path towards misery, pain, and eventual crucifixion for the slave. The slave was ecstatic at the idea!

An Overseer opened the door, accompanying Mistress and her slave down a long corridor passing many cell doors. They arrived at a small chamber which held a set of steps which lead downwards. Distant and faint screaming became more distinct the further they went down before reaching a chamber filled with torture equipment.

Other slave’s were undergoing torture. This slave flinched as they went past a hot brazier. It knew it would forever both fear and savour heated iron.

Mistress explained many pieces of equipment “that is the Judas chair,” slave understood its grim purpose when it saw manacles on the end of a long chain from the ceiling.

“Over here is a strappado. Now observe this, torture slave, I want you to understand how it works.”

A slave had its arms tied backwards behind its back with a rope joining its manacles to the ceiling. The slave whimpered in agony as the role was winched upwards. As it’s feet were lifted from the ground the shoulders and arm muscles were stretched and as her inexorable rise continues mid began to make small sounds.

@Fear not, slave, those sounds come from my victim’s muscles, not breaking bones, which requires greater method than just raising the slave in this way. The slave was raised almost to the ceiling and was screaming. At last, the secret was revealed, the brake was released and the slave hurtled down ward. When the brake was applied one of her shoulder blades popped cruelly as the slave’s wicked trajectory was brought to a sudden halt.

slave became more horny as each new sight was beheld.
The mistress continued the torture tour and the slave is more and more esthatic. At last they came to the one every slave dreads - the rack

Slave was eager to be introduced to its upcoming torture.

Last edited:


Rebel Leader
Staff member
Interesting to me that the slave here is always referred to with the word: “it”. Appropriate perhaps for the dehumanizing existence of a slave. The repeated use of “it” in the text caught my eye as I am not accustomed to seeing that word usage in a story here.


Interesting to me that the slave here is always referred to with the word: “it”. Appropriate perhaps for the dehumanizing existence of a slave. The repeated use of “it” in the text caught my eye as I am not accustomed to seeing that word usage in a story here.
The use of the word it is entirely intentional. The slave never refers to itself with any kind of honourific because it is indeed dehumanizing. Whip slave is so lowly it not only doesn’t have a name but cannot be referred to using any form of honorific given to non-slave humans.
While obviously fantasy, whip-slave completely accepts it’s lot and in it’s way is entirely content, even deliriously happy, with it’s subservient brutal slavery at the hands of a severely sadistic Mistress.
I’m having a lot of fun with this, I suppose that’s obvious.

the second post is still a work in construction well under way. Given how brutal the first one was, I thought I’d tone it down, whip slave having a far gentler time in it•s first two weeks in a dungeon!!!
Whip-Slave also makes a guest appearance in tonight’s episode in my dueling thread on rope or nails in the Crucifixion forum. Michael and I are having fun with a shared fantasy posting. I suppose the first several posts are a pedestrian enough crucifixion yarn with my masochist slave character goading her master to more brutality.

But it’s what happens after her death that got my creative juices flowing and I think it’s the most interesting development I’ve written here. Please check it out, I’m somewhat proud of it, hoping Michael likes it and runs with it as well.
Last edited:


“Well slave, why is it wearing a skirt?”

slave panicked! Not this again? It would not repeat its error a second time! It dropped to the floor, groveling, fearful of what 100 new lashes might do to its nearly dest..

it remained silent....

whoosh- tack!
It was only the single tail but the worthless slaves back was so sensitive it might have been a scourge.

“so, it refuses to answer me, miserable slave?”

She casually whips the whimpering slave another dozen lashes for good measure. Slave is now crying and several welts began to bleed.

“well slave, what does it say? Slave may speak”

“This lowly slave begs forgiveness mistress. Please torture your brand new torture slave. I beg for your torments”

“Very well, slave is fortunate that I am in a merciful mood (whoosh-tack! the mistress casually strikes the bleeding back) I see my slave’s wounds, and will instead place you on the table.”

the two overseers picked it up by it’s chains and roughly dumped the slave on the torture table

I will spare it’s back with my usual perverted idea of mercy” Rack the slave!

but I will whip it’s chest...


The terminology of the phenom ,"it"...reminds me of the scene from "Silence of the Lambs",when the Buffalo Bill character calls his frightened,(female) captive ,"It" ,as he instructs her to moisturise her skin.
" And It will put the moisturiser in It's basket...."
Good work @Loinclothslave1 so far...


(Rewrite of 3rd installment)

“Well slave, why is it wearing a skirt?”

slave panicked! Not this again? It would not repeat its error a second time! It dropped to the floor, groveling, fearful of what 100 new lashes might do to its nearly destroyed back...

it remained silent....

whoosh- tack!
It was only the single tail but the worthless slaves back was so sensitive it might have been a scourge.

“so, it refuses to answer me, miserable slave?”

She casually whips the whimpering slave another dozen lashes for good measure. Slave is now crying and several welts began to bleed.

“well slave, what does it say? Slave may speak”

“This lowly slave begs forgiveness mistress. Please torture your brand new torture slave. I beg for your new torments”

“Very well, slave is fortunate that I am in a merciful mood (whoosh-tack! the mistress casually strikes the bleeding back) I see my slave’s wounds, and will instead place you on a nice table.”

the two overseers picked it up by it’s chains and roughly dumped the slave on the torture rack

Mistress mused I will spare it’s back with my usual perverted idea of mercy” Rack the slave!

but I will whip it’s chest...

“The sentence is 200 lashes using the Cat, which is the minimum flogging punishment for a torture slave. the slave is permitted to scream, beg for mercy, cry out “slave” but all that I require of it is that it kisses the whip, and keeps count. The sentence will be increased by 20 lashes for the first miscounting”

“Now slave, I offer you a choice. I am kind. Instead of 200 lashes, would you prefer 30 kisses if the hot irons instead? Same conditions, counting brandings instead of lashes. Slave may answer, slave!”

The wretch was in torment, 200 lashes from the cat in its front and limbs would be brutal. But 30 brandings? Oh how it feared the devestating pain from just one brand was excruciating. But 209 lashes... from the cat... slave couldn’t count how many, but it was certain it was over 1000 individual lashes?

“oh mistress, be merciful. Slave isn’t permitted to be naked or wear pants. It can only wear the loincloth. Mistress please have mercy. Miserable slave wants to die on the crucifix, not today upon this rack....”

Slave was rambling....

“choose now, pathetic slave, choose one or I may decide you require both!”

“Oh Mistress, slave begs for the 30 brandings, please! Slave begs it is burned mercifully”

Mistress wasn’t stupid, she wanted this slave for a very long time. It was such a willing participant in its torture. It has an inner *need* to be punished. She knew it would have to choose the hot irons, but today they were a merciful dull red, far less than the white heat from before. She knew if she avoided the slaves back and any unhealed burns, the slave would easily survive, despite the full racking...

“Very well, overseers, turn the rack by 10 notches. Do it slow, slave must savour each notch and understand by the 10th it’s shoulders and knees will be so strained they are imperiled, they usually dislocate if set 1 or 2 higher.”

Slave was already held tight like a guitar string, it didn’t feel it could be stretched another entire foot .
As the first and second notches turned, slave said nothing, but the third caused it to scream, despite no great damage.

on the 4th it begged abjectly for mercy
5th a blood curdling scream, crying out “slave” which was like a rally to itself, proclaiming its rightful place. Under the loincloth it’s cock was hardening
6th stoically no screams
7th another hideaous scream, begs for mercy
8th another scream and “oh, slave”
9th notch, it is in real agony now, it’s shoulders, knees were at their breaking point
10th, a big moment, slave was scared for its shoulder and joints popped painfully. It was also intensely aroused...
Last edited:


Racked to the 10th notch, joints stretched to breaking point, this slave was in sweet agony once again. Joints still popping as ligaments stretch and adjust to the new unnatural angles. Each such pop brings an extra jolt of pain. As the diaphragm is brutally stretched the functionality decreases and so slave is panting.

This slave relishes it’s predicament but also enjoys the freedom in being permitted to scream and speak some words...

A joint pops!

Aaaaaaaiiiiiyah! Ahh uhh huh (panting frantically)

“slave, oooohhh, ssslaaave!”

It is this slave’s favourite word. It binds this slave to beautiful cruel Mistress. It designates this slave’s low station. The word completes slave’s life and fills it’s very soul. Other words like “whip, torture, beg, Mistress, pain, mercy, agony, chains, shackle” feed slave’s soul but “slave” fills the void.

In fact, The word completes the slave’s complex psychology and doesn’t merely allow it to accept but in fact embrace itself. Perversely the word feeds it’s very core and it is happier than most readers will have ever experienced!

Mistress observers her new toy’s convulsions with delight. Watching it struggle to breath, the squirming (mostly the rythm of the chest reflecting it’s struggling to get enough air)

it is a beautiful thing to watch her slave struggle. Mistress is greatly moved to begin further torture immediately. She wishes now that the wretched thing had chosen the lash because the slave looked so whippable... still, she knew it was best in the long term to allow the victim time to asjust as the stretched muscles adjust to the stretching. Giving her slave two hours would mean better recovery time from the rest of this torture

so she waited, enjoying its suffering.

Drinking in the constant panting and writhing agony. Enjoying the screams. Ignoring or denying its pleas for mercy.
Despite all of this driving her incredible arousal, it is one word the slave utters which touch’s Mistress most of all:


She hears this word every day, and likes hearing slave’s acknowledge their status. But the way her new Torture Slave says it touch’s her differently. Hearing it from it, drives her arousal to greater heights.

She drinks it in again like a fine wine, hearing its pathetic whimpering...
Stammering “slave,,,”
“Oh, slave”

After two hours Mistress’s pussy is soaking wet and she makes her decision.

“Slave! Slave is granted permission to speak when spoken to, today, what does it say”

“oh Mistress, slave is delighted to be so privileged. It hopes you haven’t decided to kill this worthless slave’s hide but it is forever in thrall to Mistress’s iron will!”

Mistress is extremely delighted. Slave has articulated perfectly its complete surrender to her rights over it by itself. She is always fully prepared to exercise her dominion over any of her slaves, but to hear it from this one, particularly in this moment, she found very curious. She was confused as to why urge acknowledgment could matter at all, and yet this deeply mattered, moving her deeply She was honest enough to admit this”

“Slave, I have decided to whip you anyway!”

This slave anticipates the coming pain, still worried if it might live through it, unsure if the hot irons were still to come. This fear drove it’s arousal.

“oh, slave” whimpering....

“Remember to keep count, worthless slave! As before count 1,slave as before” And perhaps forevermore, Mistress decides this will be a new rule

“oh Mistress, the pitiful slave accepts your will, whip it as you wish, damage this slave as you will, slave begs for the mercy of its torture....”

Mistress has the cat at the ready and knows she will greatly enjoy this.
Whoosh tash! As before the mantra begins “1, slave”

After 50 strokes, (50, slaaave) slave is trembling, will Mistress whip it 200 times, Slave’s greatest fear is that it has disappointed her and now it is to be discarded.

As it struggles to breath it is unsure if it can survive, particularly if it misses the count, the hot irons may finish it off. Or perhaps after her tortures, Mistress will turn the rack another 5 notches rending it from limb to limb, disemboweling it, and finally destroying it’s spine. So be it, Mistress’s will reigns completely over this pathetic slave

“oh, slave!”

As her slave writhes in agony, Mistress mounts the rack.

“Drink, slave!”
Lifting her skirt, Mistress aims her pisshole into slave’s waiting mouth...

This slave is thirsty and Mistress in her mercy allows me to drink deeply of her magnificent piss. Slave is in pain, terrible pain, and it’s heart is joyful...

“oh, slave!”

She couldn’t resist “slave, use your tongue and perform well” As was her want, she uses her short whip while slave brought her to multiple orgasm.

After it finished and Mistress raised herself it whimpered pathetically “sla-a-ave..”

This slave is in extreme agony but doesn’t recall ever being so aroused. As mistress moves off it’s mouth slave is joyeous raptured. It cries “slave, slave, sla-a-ave...” repeatedly. And with the thought “it is your slave, Mistress, destroy this slave at your will..

This makes the slave even harder, and it is astonished when Mistress adjusts it’s slave skirt to completely release it’s cock. Mistress uses the same short whip to whip it’s cock and balls a dozen times and then lowers her self onto it.

“Do not cum unless I order it, slave”

She continues to lash her pathetic slave enjoying multiple orgasms riding it’s cock for at least an hour. Slave is weeping from pain snd ecstasy, it cries out in pain, “slave”... “oh slave”

while it’s mistress is on the verge of being swept away by a building orgasm which promises to be her most devestating ever!

“Cum now, slave! “ Slashing its breast cruelly, cutting its nipple
“Aiii, sl-a-ve “
Another 3 lashes, “slave” and the whipping intensifies speed until they both cum at once!

“oh mercy, Mistress “

She gets down and retrieves the Cat! She wants to hurt the slave now, and begins whipping relentlessly and quickly.
She is too fast, slave has no chance of keeping up the count, on the 77th it falters, but Mistress does not pause, whipping the pathetic slave as she proclaims “that’s another 20, worm, (whoosh tack! -aaaiyee, whoosh tack- sev- aiyee- whoosh tack!! ) and another, and another, pathetic slave.”

Miserable slave is in misery. Mistress flogs it so hard and fast, when it screams it has no time to keep the count. It does not know how to rescue the count, it is Mistress’s will that it is to be whipped to death. The thought makes slaves throbbing cock hard again. As she “aiiyag” whips me again

With each furious stroke slave calls out “slave!”

Mistress is whipping it mercilessly because she is angry. She is unsure why but is relentless, deliberately forcing her torture slave to miss its count. It was for her, and her alone to decide this slave’s fate.

by the time the slave cried out “slave” each stroke, the count must have been over 120. It was probably another 200 before Mistress came out of her black funk.

Her new torture slave’s body is covered in marks..

Mistress decides to leave it in the rack and sends in the dungeon slaves with the healing salves. Perhaps tomorrow she will turn the wheel. Or not, but it would be HER WILL, not the slave’s

This slave is in agony and lives. It loves it’s Mistress and will endure all, including death in her honour.

“oh, slave”
Last edited:
Top Bottom