worthless lil painslut
my submissive life
“I don’t really need a reason to torture you. You always deserve to be punished for something. There is always something careless, stupid, or wrong that you’ve done because you’re just a stupid cunt. And you always deserve to be punished for being such a fat, ugly pig. You really should be suffering in some way all the time. Don’t you agree?”
“Good. So every day, before you go to bed, you will make a list of everything you did wrong that day and deserve to be punished for. I’ll probably ignore the list, but it will be a good reminder to you about how stupid and lazy you are and why you deserve to suffer. You should always be reminded of your faults and why you should be treated like a piece of shit. Isn’t that right?”
“Good. Now piggy, have you suffered for me yet today?”
“No? Don’t you think you should wake up every morning and immediately find some way to cause yourself pain and suffering? Don’t you know that you are not worthy of starting your day like normal and good people?”
“Yes Sir. I’m sorry Sir.”
“You should be. From now on you will make sure to hurt and/or degrade yourself in some way every morning. I’m tired of doing all the thinking for you. You will come up with the manner of your suffering yourself and impose it on yourself. I may occasionally inquire as to what it was, just to keep you honest. But for the most part I don’t care about the details so long as you are suffering every morning. Do you think you are capable of handling this, you stupid cunt?”
“You’ll undoubtedly find a way to fuck it up, since you can rarely manage to do anything right. But that’s why you come to me on a regular basis to be tortured, isn’t it?”
“So, since we last met, what are all the things you’ve done or not done that you deserve to be punished for? Again, not that I need a reason, but I want to make sure you are constantly aware of all your many faults. Be specific.”
“I used my snooze button on several mornings. I was late to work once. I was slacking off at work. I went shopping and bought myself a luxury item. I neglected to exercise on two days. I failed to meet my weekly weight loss quota. I procrastinated returning several emails and phone calls. I failed to keep my house clean. I stayed up excessively late one night. And I masturbated.”
My Dom looked down at me, obviously disgusted with me. I was on my knees in front of him, naked, with my legs spread and my hands clasped behind my back. This degrading ritual he forces me to perform of listing the details of my faults and poor performance is done weekly. First comes the mental and verbal lashing. Next, the pain will start.
“And why do you need to be punished for those things? What do they demonstrate about who you are?”
“They show that I am lazy and lack self control. My boss doesn’t pay me to come in late and then slack off, yet I do. I remain a fat pig because I am too stupid and lazy to exercise and eat right and everyone who is forced to see and interact with me suffers just from looking at me. I don’t deserve nice, luxury items or to have the pleasure of an orgasm, but I am selfish and have no self control. I have very simple rules to follow, but I am a stupid, lazy, selfish cunt and can’t manage to obey them. I lack any sense of discipline.”
Of course, some of the rules are meant for me to fail. The weekly weight loss quota is nearly impossible to reach unless I starved myself and quit my job to exercise six hours a day. Just eating healthy and exercising an hour a day would not be sufficient. But the impossibility of it is the point. As my Dom explained when he set the quota at five pounds a week, I allowed myself to become a fat pig. I should not be rewarded for small losses. Every day I allowed myself to be a lazy glutton and get to be this fat, so now every day I should be punished for it. I should be punished for every cookie, every slice of pizza, and every unhealthy bite I ever took. The punishment should continue every day until I actually reach a healthy weight. It is why every day, whenever I’m at home, I have to wear a rubber pig-nose. It is a constant reminder of what I am, what I allowed myself to become.
I am grateful to my Dom for taking the on the huge task of attempting to make me better. If I fail to lose weight, to do better at work, to learn self control, or to be a better person, it is because of my own faults, not his. He is cruel and strict because I have been too kind and easy on myself. The pain he inflicts on me is no more than I myself earned.
He puts the tight leather hood over my head so he doesn’t have to hurt his eyes by looking anymore at my ugly face. I can hear him very slightly through the hood, but he doesn’t say much more. I already know why I am being tortured. I cannot see because the hood has no eye openings. There is nothing I need to see; my Dom moves me and positions me and I need only obey his touch. And because there is nothing left for me to say, the hood includes a gag. My crying and screaming are muffled, but would be ignored regardless. The torture is however harsh and lasts however long my Dom desires. There is no warm up and no soft touch, only pain.
He starts by punching me. He pounds his fists repeatedly into my fat tits, stomach, ass, thighs, and cunt. I can feel my fat body jump and jiggle with each punch. Each one feels hard enough to leave a bruise. As I cannot see through the hood, I have no way of knowing where the next blow is going to land or brace myself for it. He focuses on punching my left tit repeatedly and then jumps down to my stomach before returning to my left tit again. He is often uneven in his tortures, leaving me with one tit more swollen than the other or one ass cheek covered with welts and bruises while the other is hardly touched. He thinks this asymmetrical torture is harder on me mentally. He’s correct.
After the punching bag treatment, he puts clamps on my nipples and pussy lips. The clamps hurt but I know that’s just the start. He hangs weights from the clamps, pulling and stretching my tender areas until I’m sure they are going to rip off. With my tits and pussy lips stretched grotesquely, he takes a thin plastic cane and goes to work on them. He whips my tits and pussy harder and harder and over and over again. When I try to cover myself with my hands, he simply cuffs them behind my back. He then lashes me with the cane right on my stretched nipples. Under the hood I am screaming and crying, but he doesn’t care. After the caning he lifts the weights and drops them repeatedly. It yanks my nipples and pussy lips terribly. The clamps are too tight to be pulled off this way and the dropping of the weights continues until I fall to my knees and curl up, unable to take anymore.
My Dom is not dissuaded. He leaves the clamps and weights hanging from my fat body and starts whipping me with his belt. He doesn’t focus on any specific area; he just lashes it down on me letting it land anywhere. When I move or roll over, it just lands somewhere else. I try lying still to see if that appeases him, but it doesn’t and eventually I have to move just to spread the pain out.
Next he pulls me back to my feet and returns to torturing me by swinging the heavy weights around, pulling on my incredibly sore nipples and pussy. Eventually he removes the clamps and I scream as the blood rushes back. He increases my pain by forcefully grabbing and squeezing my nipples and pussy. He continues to manhandle me until my sobs becomes ones of resignation. Then he knows it’s time to move on to some new torment.
He pulls my hands up behind me, forcing me to bend over, and secures me there. I know my fat ass is being targeted. He warms me up by taking a peeled hot pepper and shoving it deep into my ass. The burning starts almost immediately. I can’t help but squirm in pain, but this only makes the burning worse. It is intense but I have no option except to accept it. I cry into my hood and eventually hang still.
My Dom moves on to beating my ass. He uses the big wooden paddle and swats me with it hard and methodically. He swings it with both hands and my big ass provides him with an ample target. After a while he switches to the heavy but smaller bath brush and pounds just my left ass cheek with it. Each swat with it will leave a bruise and he beats my left side with it thoroughly. There’s that asymmetry he so enjoys. I’ll spend most of the week sitting while leaning to my right. He continues until that half of my ass is badly bruised and swollen and I can be heard sobbing in my hood.
He stands me back upright but leaves the burning pepper in my ass. He’ll send me home with it still in. When I get home and remove it, the burning will continue in my ass most of the night. He turns his attention to my tits, actually, just my right tit. He sticks four electrodes to it and starts the juice. He spends the next thirty minutes just electrocuting my right tit. He plays with the length and strength of the shocks. Some are short incredibly strong bursts and others go on forever, leaving me hoarse from screaming. I can’t beg him to stop. All I can do is scream. For a while I thrash wildly in my cuffs trying to escape and stop the pain. But eventually, as always, the helplessness sets in and I remain still, accepting the pain with muffled sobs.
Next my Dom has me step into a small box filled with sharp rocks and gravel. They dig into my bare feet painfully, but are not quite sharp enough to break the skin. He fastens a belt around my stomach, which he tightens as much as possible, digging it into my fat stomach and almost cutting me in half. My rolls of fat bulge out from over and under it and it hurts badly. Adding to my misery he reattaches my nipple clamps and weights. He knows that putting them back on while my nipples are already sore from their earlier torture is even worse than before. Sufficiently tormented, he leaves me standing there to endure it. My ass is burning, my feet feel like they are being shredded, the belt is cutting me in half, and my nipples feel like they are being ripped off. In my hood I can see and hear nothing. I stand still, suffering and crying, not even knowing if my Dom is watching. He may have left the room to go and do other things. I have no way of knowing. And I have no way of knowing how long I will be left to stand there in excruciating pain. Everything hurts. I lift my feet a little to relieve the pain, but putting them back down again makes the pain worse. The tightness of the belt makes it feel like I can’t breathe, even though I know I can. The slightest movement pulls my nipples and leaves me crying.
I have no conception of time. I feel like I’ve been standing there for hours. I wonder if my Dom has forgotten about me. My crying becomes louder. Not because of the pain, but because I’m feeling sorry for myself. Poor me. I have no right to such thoughts of self pity. I should be grateful to my Dom for giving me the punishments I so richly deserve. I remind myself of this and force myself to stop crying and embrace my pain. Not long after my crying stops, my Dom returns.
He doesn’t release me. Instead, he takes his belt and starts whipping my back with it. The new pain forces me to move and it spreads to my whole body. My feet, ass, stomach, and tits are on fire again. I scream with each hard lash of the belt. When I begin choking on my sobs, he finally stops and releases me from my bonds and tortures.
When the hood is removed, my face is covered in tears, snot, and slobber. I am not allowed to wipe it off. I must leave it there to further demonstrate how disgusting and pathetic I am. I am not permitted to wash my face until tomorrow morning. I can remove the pepper from my ass when I get home, but the burning will last all night. The rest of the bruises and welts will last much longer. There are no kind words from my Dom as he sends me away. He simply tells me he’s done with me and to get my fat cunt out of his house. He also reminds me to keep a daily list of things I do wrong and need to be punished for, as well as a reminder to make myself suffer in some way every morning.
I will, as always, obey. On my way out, I take several large bills out of my wallet and place them in his mailbox. Paying for my torture is just one more indignity I am made to suffer. I drive home exhausted, hurting, and humiliated.