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Loinclothslave’s Slavery Tales

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Loinclothslave

slave to the whip
I wish to dip my toes once more into writing from the masochist perspective …

It’s been a long time since I’ve ventured to start my own thread.

I’m finding I have a few partially written pieces and thought perhaps sharing some as stand alone shorts might garner some entertainment for you all, and if someone likes any that might inspire me to finish so many beginnings.

The theme of my first vignette is, of course, utterly predictable from me. But I hope some of you might like it, please do feel free to offer any feedback, I appreciate honest criticism and understand some may find my recurring theme repetitive.

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Dungeon Slave’s Homecoming

slave awakens in a cold stone cell, in a scrappy loincloth skirt, shackled, collar chained to an eyebolt on the floor… The only sounds are of occasional dripping water, the susserations of chains, the whimpering of other scared slaves.

Then the heavy footsteps of the guards! slave tastes fear, a metallic taste in its mouth, and it’s breath rate increases… Will it be this slave’s turn this time? Oh please, no!

There is a sudden rasping sound of metal against metal as stout keys are used and the heavy door is unlocked. This slave scrabbles in it’s chains into the deepest corner to get away from the brute overseer who laughs, using his whip generously while reaching forward to unlock slave’s leash from the bolt… He drags slave forward, “on your knees, slave, crawl, NOW!!”

whirrrr Crack!

Instead of dragging the slave, he uses the leash like reins, following this slave from behind, liberally dosing slave with the lash. “Crawl faster, slave, YOUR LORD MASTER needs to see HIS slave, and HE doesn’t like waiting! Ha ha ha!”

Whirrr Crack!!

Tears roll from it’s eyes, it knows it is only a slave, it’s fate to remain in cruel bondage, to starve, to be abused, and to suffer… it wants to beg for mercy, yet knows it must obey, and has not been given leave to speak. So it crawls, and feels keenly each crack of the whip,which tears into it’s flesh with regularity as it crawls… The stone floors are hard against its knees, the stone steps to the chamber are tall and difficult to crawl, it’s bondage hampering it’s journey… But if it should falter it’s only respite is a rain of blows from the whip, unrelentingly pain until it progresses forward once more. it’s tears fall freely and it tries to choke it’s screams, those will surely be needed later.

At last it reaches the chamber, in the centre is a hooded leather clad MAN with a cruel sneer and harsh snake whip in hand. slave is urged to crawl towards HIS feet. slave grovels, driving it’s head onto the floor, trembling in fear and worship of it’s true MASTER. Kissing the ground before HIS heavy boots.

Behind MASTER is a burning brazier full of hot tools. There are many implements of torture- the rack, a strappado, a spiked torture chair, the dreaded Spanish Donkey. Tools and chains adorn an entire wall, every kind of whip, devices like cats claws and breast rippers. Pincers, pliers, simple rods, spikes, skewers, and pins.

slave trembles, fearing to raise it’s head to take in the view of MASTER, it’s whole world. it exists only to suffer for MASTER.

In a perverse way, it is comforted when MASTER rests HIS foot on slave’s head, grinding it’s face into the stone floor a little. slave submits it’s entire soul.

Suddenly it feels a deep hot flash of pain and it cannot help but scream! It is unmistakably MASTER’s whip, no one can create such pain from a single lash like HIM!

MASTER gifts the wretch a proper warm up whipping as it trembles and kneels in it’s chains. Blow after blow after blow, again and again, until slave’s screams become hoarse, until it’s flesh is torn and bleeding..

At last HE speaks, “has slave nothing to say? it may answer!”

“Oh, thank YOU, my MASTER, this slave begs to suffer, may it please lift it’s unworthy head so it might gaze upon the ONE LORD it worships, SIR?”

“Yes, slave, gaze up in adoration as I gift it a taste of this burning brand!”

Hissssssssz!!! “Aaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiugh!”

If the crack of the whip makes it submit and surrender utterly to it’s enslavement, the startling pain and sound from the hot torture brand intoxicates it into the complete oblivion of slavery! it is HIS! Forever!! To suffer and amuse MASTER however HE sees fit!

“Hop up to the torture table, slave, this is going to be a long night!”

slave’s shackles are released and it is placed face up on the table, chained by each corner. MASTER gathers the tools, some are red hot, and begins to inflict a lesson of agony upon his favourite torture slave’s flesh.

“I can and will do anything to it, slave. I love it’s pain, it’s agony. I will abuse it sexually and it will obey MY deepest depravity, yes slave?”

“SIR, yes SIR! slave begs MASTER, please hurt this slave and use it, SIR!”

The real torture begins. slave is terrified and in agony, yet it cannot help but love it’s MASTER…

The screams and whimpering will continue, slave suffers long and hard.

A day later it is dragged back to it’s cell, barely conscious and unable to even crawl. It is returned in it’s shackles, it’s loincloth torn to rags, chained to the wall, wailing in pain, crying tears of despair, and utterly content in it’s terrible suffering, hoping only to serve MASTER again and soon…

slave is lost, completely enthralled, and wants for nothing if it is permitted only to suffer. For MASTER. HIS slave…

There is a distant sound of the crack of a whip and the scream of a slave, it is the sound of home.

———————

TBC with new short stories
 
Good writing!:thumbsup:
I wish to dip my toes once more into writing from the masochist perspective …
Is the water you dip the toe into, too hot, or too cold?;)

The only sounds are of occasional dripping water, the susserations of chains, the whimpering of other scared slaves.
The sound of rats crawling around? No! The place seems so terrible that even rats stay out!:eek:
 
Good writing!:thumbsup:
Thank you, that’s most encouraging.
Is the water you dip the toe into, too hot, or too cold?;)
That is MASTER’s decision. All this slave knows is that it will never be “just right”
The sound of rats crawling around? No! The place seems so terrible that even rats stay out!:eek:
It is slave’s home, no one would tolerate rats in their home, would they?
:roflmao::span1:
 
Very nice, @Loinclothslave ! I like the abject surrender and the looming threat of torture…
I would not use “susurration” with chains, it’s more a whispering sound like the wind in the trees, and not metallic; then again, clinking and clanking are not very poetic words, I can’t suggest a better alternative. Also you have an apostrophe problem, which you can blame on the autocorrect! Otherwise very good :clapclap:
 
Very nice, @Loinclothslave ! I like the abject surrender and the looming threat of torture…
I would not use “susurration” with chains, it’s more a whispering sound like the wind in the trees, and not metallic; then again, clinking and clanking are not very poetic words, I can’t suggest a better alternative. Also you have an apostrophe problem, which you can blame on the autocorrect! Otherwise very good :clapclap:
By 'sussuration', I imagined the sound of sliding chains over the floor. In some way, a 'metallic whispering' sound, since I can imagine, the slaves move their chains carefully, to avoid to disturb the others.
 
I read the story for both its contents (mesmerising) and proofread to spot inconsistencies between it/HE, which is notoriously difficult unless you are fully immersed in that concept-----you passed------fully immersed?
 
I read the story for both its contents (mesmerising) and proofread to spot inconsistencies between it/HE, which is notoriously difficult unless you are fully immersed in that concept-----you passed------fully immersed?
Pretty solidly immersed, this slave originally wrote this for MASTER, and it usually uses full slave speech in chats with HIM. Also thoroughly proofread, slave took it’s time on this one.
 
A short crucifixion vignette I shared on fet that I hope some of you might enjoy:

This slave only deserves the full agony of a traditional crucifixion. Certainly a few weeks of torture in the build up would be appropriate, it was born to suffer. Whips, hot brands, racked almost to breaking, make it suffer. Then some recovery time so it may face it’s ultimate fate in good strength.

The morning of it’s nailing, slave is to be scourged to blood, then tied to it’s patibulum and lead up its via Delarosa in chains under the lash. Only a skimpy loincloth covers it’s sex, and soaked in blood, sweat, and urine. The slave is a contemptible sight- everyone knows it is worthless and deserves only cruelty and contempt.

After an arduous climb, whipped and bleeding, slave reaches the base of it’s stipes, and is forced onto its back.

The spike is placed upon its left wrist, the hammer rises, and WHAM! Marries slave’s wrist to it’s final master as flesh and bone are broken by the cold steel. The hammer blows again and again, until the nail head is flush to slave’s skin, and embedded deeply within the wood!

This is repeated to slave’s right wrist as it screams and begs for mercy. But there is no mercy, only unending agony. This is now slave’s life- agony and humiliation.

Yet this is just the beginning of it’s misery and despair as slave is lifted by the patibulum onto the stipes, hanging only by the nails through its wrists! Splintery wood of the stipes cruelly scraping it’s torn back. Now the pain intensifies!

At last it is mounted, then it’s feet are raised so the knees bend outward, and each ankle is nailed to the sides of the stipes! Held by 4 nails, slave can only relieve the burning pain in it’s chest by rising itself on it’s pierced ankles, crunching its bones against the harsh metal of the nails! As it lifts it can sip a little air, but cannot endure the pain of it’s ankles, to sink and hang by it’s excruciating wrists- metal scraping bone and sinew.

And so it “dances” through the afternoon, the setting sun blinding it as exhaustion creeps in. Just a condemned slave, its loincloth torn, it’s flesh bleeding, it’s screams dying down to whimpers, as it suffers in agony for it’s final wait… awaiting it’s doom.
 
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A short crucifixion vignette I shared on fet that I hope some of you might enjoy:

This slave only deserves the full agony of a traditional crucifixion. Certainly a few weeks of torture in the build up would be appropriate, it was born to suffer. Whips, hot brands, racked almost to breaking, make it suffer. Then some recovery time so it may face it’s ultimate fate in good strength.

The morning of it’s nailing, slave is to be scourged to blood, then tied to it’s patibulum and lead up its via Delarosa in chains under the lash. Only a skimpy loincloth covers it’s sex, and soaked in blood, sweat, and urine. The slave is a contemptible sight- everyone knows it is worthless and deserves only cruelty and contempt.

After an arduous climb, whipped and bleeding, slave reaches the base of it’s stipes, and is forced onto its back.

The spike is placed upon its left wrist, the hammer rises, and WHAM! Marries slave’s wrist to it’s final master as flesh and bone are broken by the cold steel. The hammer blows again and again, until the nail head is flush to slave’s skin, and embedded deeply within the wood!

This is repeated to slave’s right wrist as it screams and begs for mercy. But there is no mercy, only unending agony. This is now slave’s life- agony and humiliation.

Yet this is just the beginning of it’s misery and despair as slave is lifted by the patibulum onto the stipes, hanging only by the nails through its wrists! Splintery wood of the stipes cruelly scraping it’s torn back. Now the pain intensifies!

At last it is mounted, then it’s feet are raised so the knees bend outward, and each ankle is nailed to the sides of the stipes! Held by 4 nails, slave can only relieve the burning pain in it’s chest by rising itself on it’s pierced ankles, crunching its bones against the harsh metal of the nails! As it lifts it can sip a little air, but cannot endure the pain of it’s ankles, to sink and hang by it’s excruciating wrists- metal scraping bone and sinew.

And so it “dances” through the afternoon, the setting sun blinding it as exhaustion creeps in. Just a condemned slave, its loincloth torn, it’s flesh bleeding, it’s screams dying down to whimpers, as it suffers in agony for it’s final wait… awaiting it’s doom.
You perfectly and succinctly capture the grim gavotte known as the crux dance!
 
Interlude at the whipping post:

I am chained to the post, awaiting my fate.

You have the whip in hand. The creak of leather as you bend it while my flesh trembles… You have complete power over both whip and me! Now the thrill as the whip courses through the air in a practice throw…

Whirrrr!

Just imagine, a fierce swing, air forced past the fall, leather strikes flesh, the leather cracks against bare skin, the sweat splashed in reaction!

Crack!!!

The sound intoxicates, the smell of leather, sweat, sex, and blood! Then the sweetest part, the taboo part, the secret desire, the pain!!! And to follow, the blood!

“Aaaaiiiigh!!!”

Oh Ghod! my cock twitches, then i say it, the words to confirm my depravity, that loses me to the world of lust, slavery, and taboo! With these simple words i admit defeat to an overwhelming and forbidden secret desire…

“Again, please MISTRESS, whip this slave again, it begs you to possess it utterly…”

You raise the leather, before You is an object to suffer, make it bleed, it begs for your cruelty, now , please…

A tear rolls down it’s cheek…

Whirrrrrrrr…
 
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