worthless lil painslut
my submissive life
I arrive at my Dom’s house at 7pm as instructed. The door to his front porch is unlocked. I know without trying it that the door to the house will be locked. I enter the porch and immediately strip off all my clothes. I put them in the trash bag that he left out for me. I then kneel facing the door to the house, with my knees spread and my hands behind my head.
The porch is screened in. That plus darkness offers me some cover. Still I feel very exposed and I have no way of knowing how long my Dom will leave me here. I am not allowed to knock or ring the bell. Several minutes go by and the porch light goes on. I foolishly think this means I’m about to be let inside. But I’m not. I’m left kneeling naked in front of his door with what feels like a spotlight shining on me. I wonder if anyone sees me. I’m embarrassed and terrified.
After what feels like an eternity, the front door opens. I keep my eyes lowered, having been previously instructed that I was not fit to make eye contact with my Dom. He doesn’t invite me in and I remain in position staring at his shoes.
“What is wrong with you?! Don’t you know I have neighbors? You think I want them seeing a pathetic pig like you outside my door? And that’s what you are, a pathetic pig. You’re obviously not a woman because no woman in her right mind would allow herself to be treated this way. But you not only allow it, you beg for it. Don’t you, you pathetic pig?”
“What are you?”
“A pathetic pig, Sir.”
“Get inside before I have to suffer the humiliation of my neighbors seeing you.” I crawl inside. I know not to argue with him or point out that he is the one who makes me wait naked outside his door. It’s part of the game he plays with me; everything is my fault, even what he demands.
“I’m watching the end of the game. Go down to your pen and put yourself in a hogtie. Gag yourself too. I don’t know why you always have to fucking bother me when the game is on. Now I’m going to have to waste my time punishing your fat ass for it later. What are you waiting for? Go!”
He kicks me in the ass to emphasize his order. I crawl down to his basement, which he nicknamed “The Pig Pen” in my honor. I first take a ball-gag and fasten it tightly around my head. I then take the four-point restraints and lay flat on my stomach in the middle of the floor. I reach back and secure both my ankles and wrists in the restraints, leaving me in a very simple hogtie. I have no way of freeing myself and no way of knowing how long my Dom will leave me here. He has, on occasion, left me there for hours to suffer alone, only to then release me and send me home without further play or attention. I hate those days the most. But I do not complain because by agreement, I must accept however much or little attention he chooses to give me.
Fortunately, tonight is not one of those nights. After what is probably about an hour, I hear my Dom enter my pen. The next thing I know, pain is shooting through the soles of my feet. My Dom is whipping my feet with something. He doesn’t say anything. He just continues raining lashes onto my unprotected feet while I squeal into my gag.
Finally he stops and unties me. He grabs me by my hair and pulls me up to my feet. I am still gagged. He refastens my wrists and ankles so that I am bound spread eagle while standing. He takes the riding crop and starts beating the undersides of my arms and armpits. This is not a fun area to be whipped and I am soon thrashing around trying to avoid the crop.
“Stand still you fucking cunt! You came here to be tortured and you will accept whatever torture I decide to give you. I know you enjoy having your fat ass spanked or your smelly pussy flogged, but I can’t imagine what makes you think you deserve that enjoyment. You spent weeks begging me to allow you back here to be tortured and now you’re acting like an ungrateful bitch. I will torture whatever part of your disgusting body I choose and you will take it without struggling or I will send you home and never allow you to return.”
Thoroughly reprimanded he returned to the riding crop. He continued beating my underarms while I held as still as possible and whimpered into my gag. He spent the next hour or so whipping the areas of my body that would give me the least enjoyment. He caned the front and sides of my thighs. He used his thick, heavy belt to whip my fat stomach. He used a thin, stinging lash to whip my shins and calves. And he returned repeatedly to my already sore underarms. I cried and moaned into my gag, but stood still in a sign of acceptance and defeat.
When he tired he left to get himself a drink. When he returned he finally removed my gag. My jaw was aching. “So, you still want me to spend some time torturing your filthy udders, cunt, and ass?”
He walked towards me and in one swift motion punched me between the legs. He didn’t punch my pussy full force, but with enough force to buckle my knees and cause me to yell out. “You still want me to torture your cunt?”
Hesitantly, “Yes Sir.” Another punch between my legs. “Owww!”
“You still want me to torture your cunt?”
Crying, “Yes Sir.” Another punch to my pussy. “OWWWW!!!”
“Now what do you say?”
“Thank you Sir.”
“Thank you. You really are pathetic. What would your friends and family think if they knew that you not only begged to be treated like shit and tortured, but then thanked me for it afterwards? Maybe we should find out. What do you think, should I send some pictures of you like this to your friends and family?”
“No Sir! Please no!”
“Why not? You enjoy being humiliated, don’t you? Don’t you?!”
“So why shouldn’t I humiliate you in front of your friends and family? Why shouldn’t they know what a pathetic pig you are?”
Crying again, “Please don’t Sir. Please. I’ll do anything.”
“I already know you’ll do anything. You’ll do anything because you’re a pathetic pig. What are you?”
“I’m a pathetic pig, Sir.”
“Louder, I can’t hear you.”
“I’m a pathetic pig, Sir!” I scream as he punches me between the legs again.
“Say ‘this pathetic pig thanks you for punching her pussy’.”
“This pathetic pig thanks you for punching her pussy, Sir.” Another one. “Owwww. This pathetic pig thanks you for punching her pussy, Sir.” Another one. Sobbing loudly, “This pathetic pig thanks you for punching her pussy, Sir.”
“Has your fat pussy had enough?”
“Fine. I’m getting tired. Do you want your udders or your ass tortured next? I think we’ll only do one more before I send you packing. Which will it be?”
“My ass please, Sir.”
“You want your fat ass spanked?”
“Fine, udders it is.” He grabs a bag of clothespins and starts quickly covering my tits with them. They hurt, but I know it’s nothing compared to what’s coming next. My Dom takes his flogger and starts whipping my clothespin covered tits. He ignores my screams and flogs me repeatedly until every last clothespin has been whipped off.
In a mock gesture of compassion he reaches out to stroke my sore udders. But instead he grabs them roughly and manhandles them, causing me to scream more. He squeezes them and twists them and slaps them while I scream and cry in pain. This rough treatment continues until he is satisfied with the stream of tears running down my cheeks. “What do you say?”
“Thank you Sir.”
“No, be specific.” He yanks my nipples hard and I gasp in pain.
“This pathetic pig thanks you for torturing her udders, Sir!” Satisfied, he releases his vice-like grip on my nipples. Almost done, he unfastens my wrists and ankles. I start to drop to my hands and knees.
“No, no. We’re not quite done yet. Stand up. Put your hands behind your head and spread your legs as wide as possible. I think a couple more shots to that fat pussy of your’s are in order.”
“Oh god, please no, no more, Sir.”
“What?! I offer you one last parting gift and you say no to me? Get in position now before I decide to tie you back up and beat your cunt until it is black and blue and swollen shut!”
Afraid of his wrath, I do as instructed. He balls his fist and drills it hard between my legs. I scream and almost collapse. “Get back up and into position. I was only going to give you one parting shot, but since you had the nerve to say no to me, I think you get one more.” I force myself back into position and brace myself. He punches me again and this time I scream and fall to the floor. “Don’t you ever say no to me again! Now let’s go.” He walks up the stairs and I crawl after him, my poor pathetic pussy throbbing.
When we reach the front door he tells me to fetch the trash bag with my clothes in it. “Take your clothes out.” I obey. “Now toss them to the corner.” I hesitate, not understanding. “You won’t be wearing them home. You can get them next time you come back.”
“But, what will I wear home?”
“You’re holding it. Tear a couple of holes in the trash bag and wear it like a dress.”
“What? Please, Sir. Don’t make me wear a trash bag home.”
“Fine. Go home naked.”
“What? No Sir, I can’t do that!”
“Tough shit. I gave you the option of wearing the bag. You don’t want it, so drive home naked.” He yanked the bag out of my hand and started to push me out the door.
“Wait! No! I’m sorry Sir! I’ll wear the bag! Please let me wear the trash bag, Sir!”
“What the fuck? First you beg me not to make you wear the bag and now you beg me to let you wear it? Can’t you make up your fucking mind? You already said no. Why should I give it to you now?”
“Please Sir, I’m sorry. Please don’t make me drive home naked. Please. I’ll do anything.” I fell to my knees and begin to kiss his shoes.
“Fine. Here’s the deal. Since you had to go and be a bitch about it, I’m going to make it a little worse for you now.” First, he took red marker and wrote “CUNT” across my forehead. Next, he took several strips of duct tape, spread raw rice along the sticky sides, and then stuck them to my ass cheeks. This had the effect of having me sit on the raw rice, irritating my ass, the entire ride home. Finally, he tore holes in the trash bag for my head and arms and ordered me into my new dress.
“Now then, your final instructions: You will not remove any of this until tomorrow morning. That means you will drive home and sleep in your trash bag, with the rice taped to your fat ass, and with ‘CUNT’ still on your face. But before you go to sleep, once home you will sit in a wooden chair and handwrite ‘This pathetic pig thanks you for torturing its fat, disgusting body.’ You will write the line 100 times. When done you will put the pages in an envelope addressed to me. In the morning, before you are allowed to change, you will walk to a mailbox and mail me the pages. That’s right, you will walk in the morning, in the daylight, so everyone can see your ‘CUNT’ face and trash bag dress. Only when you return, can you remove the dress, the tape, and get washed. By then, your ass should be nice and raw from the rice digging into it all night. I hope that will serve as a reminder not to fight with me again. Oh yeah, don’t throw out the trash bag. You will wear it again next time you come over here. Maybe I’ll let you have your clothes back then. Any questions?”
“What do you say?”
“This pathetic pig thanks you for torturing and humiliating her, Sir.”
He slapped me across the face and closed the door. Leaving me to my continuing pain and humiliation.