my submissive life
Another suffering Saturday
Sir R fastened my neck and wrists in the wooden stocks. He ordered me to stick my tongue out as far as possible and then he clamped it between two chopsticks and secured their ends with rubber bands. I was unable to pull my tongue back into my mouth and was left both unable to speak and drooling incessantly. Next he attached a nose-hook, pulling it tightly so my nose resembled that of a pig. He fastened it to the top of the stocks, forcing me to keep my head up. Finally, he put clamps on both of my earlobes and tied them off to the sides of the stocks. Any attempted movement of my head would be both painful and futile.
Of course, this humiliating face-bondage was just a prelude to the torture to come. Sir R showed me his first implement of torture – his beloved cane. He explained, “I’m going to beat the backs of your legs, thighs, and ass. You are not permitted to move. The strokes will only be light to moderate. But if you move at all, you will receive a very hard penalty stroke. So I strongly suggest you keep still.”
He began whipping me with the cane. The strokes stung but were not individually too hard. The problem was that they came rapidly and in the same spots over and over again. Collectively, the pain grew and I, of course, began moving to diffuse the pain. True to his word, every time I moved, Sir R delivered an extra hard lash of the cane that had me screaming and undoubtedly left a dark red line across my skin. The caning continued until I had received over a dozen penalty lashes.
Next Sir R help up my rubber Ben Wa balls. They are large balls made of hard rubber that are connected to each other and have on the end a loop that acts like a handle for easy removal. He shoved them both deep into my cunt, leaving the loop sticking out. “I’m going to hang a lot of weight from the loop sticking out of your smelly cunt. You must keep the balls in your cunt. Your legs will be spread so you will have only your pussy muscles to hold them. If the balls fall out before the timer goes off, your worthless cunt will be severely punished.”
He locked my feet in the spreader bar about three feet apart. He set a timer, but kept it facing away from me so I could not see how long I would have to endure this new torture. He started hanging weights and I immediately felt the balls pulling down. I clenched my muscles as he continued to add weight. He finally stopped and I still was holding the balls in. But the test was not over yet. Sir R approached me with a sharp, wooden skewer and began to lightly poke and flick me with it. It didn’t hurt too much, but the irritation made it hard to focus and keep my muscles tense. This had the desired effect of making me relax my cunt and the weights quickly pulled the Ben Wa balls out and sent them falling to the floor. The timer had not yet expired.
Sir R took the Ben Wa balls and rolled them on my extended tongue to clean them off. He then prepared me for my punishment by extending the spreader bar another foot or two, leaving my legs obscenely wide and my cunt easily accessible. My punishment was to be five hard kicks to my cunt.
Sir R stood behind me and kicked straight up between my legs. Each kick had me yelling and the pain might have sent me falling to the floor if not for the stocks holding me up. I wanted to beg for mercy but was unable to make any coherent sounds due to my bizarre gag. Sir R responded by giving me one extra penalty kick.
Next he decided to add to my bondage and torture my nipples. He put tight clamps on each of my nipples. He tied string from the ends of the clamps and ran it down through a hook on the floor and up to my tongue. He put a clamp on my already extended tongue and tied the string to it tightly, thus pulling my nipples and tongue painfully down towards the ground. Sir R found my facial bondage very amusing since I looked like a “deformed, drooling pig.” He took several pictures of me and told me I’d be using them as my wallpaper and screensaver on my laptop and phone. Sir R always enjoys forcing me to view pictures of myself in humiliating postures.
Fully tied up, Sir R spent the next god-know-how-many minutes zapping me repeatedly with his favorite electric shocker. He shocked my ass, tits, stomach, thighs, pussy, legs, arms – basically everywhere. I was powerless to avoid the shocks or protect myself in any way. Which I suppose was the point. Each shock made me jump and pull on my bonds, hurting my face and nipples. He continued this torture until my screams became muffled sobs, demonstrating my acceptance of my helplessness.
He then left me alone for a period of time so he could have a nice, refreshing drink and I could continue to endure my suffering and bondage alone. Everything hurt and I desperately wanted to be free of my bonds. Naturally, Sir R took his time before returning to me.
During this whole time I had been drooling non-stop. My saliva had run down my face and coagulated into a puddle on the ground. Sir R scolded me for this, reminding me of what a “disgusting, filthy pig” I was. He freed me from my bonds and gag and shoved me onto the floor, shoving my face into the puddle of my drool. “Now you will lap up every drop of your slobber like a dirty dog and then use your hair to mop the floor dry.” I obeyed. As I humiliatingly licked up my drool he continued to verbally degrade and berate me.
When Sir R decided that his floor was sufficiently clean, he sent me crawling to the bathroom to rinse my face off…in the toilet. Like a high school bully he ordered me to shove my head into the toilet and then flushed it. I came up coughing and sputtering. He was laughing, always amused at what I am willing to subject myself to.
He decided to have me torture myself for a while. He pointed to a drawer in the bathroom vanity. “Open the drawer, put your fat tits inside, and slam the drawer shut.” This was new. I knew it was going to hurt. I was reluctant, but this is why I was there. Resigned to accept the pain and do as I was told, I hung my head and stepped to the vanity. I opened the drawer, bent over so my tits hung inside, and shoved the drawer closed on my tits.
Sir R was not impressed. “You stupid cunt! You had better do it a lot harder than that or I will beat your fat tits until they are unrecognizable! Now do it again, harder.” I took a deep breath, pulled the drawer open again and shoved it closed harder. “Harder bitch!” This time I did it fast and much harder. I screamed in pain as a result. “Better. Now do it again.” I did. “Again.” I did. “Again.” I did. “Harder.” I did. “Harder!” I did, and it sent me crumbling to the ground crying in pain. Sir R laughed and called me a pathetic whore. He spat on me and walked away, leaving me crying on the floor.
After a few minutes he called me over. “Get your fat ass over here.” I crawled out to where he was. “I think in the future we are going to spend a lot more time having you torture yourself. You need to learn to inflict a lot more pain on yourself. Now, since I don’t think you did nearly a good enough job torturing your tits, you are going to have to pay a penalty before you are allowed to leave. I think you owe me five minutes of screaming in pain with some electro-torture.”
I knew exactly what was coming. He had done it before. He attached electrodes to both my nipples and tied me seated in a chair. There was nothing for me to do or say. He started the current and spent the next five minutes shocking my nipples at various strengths. My job was simply to suffer. He kept the current alternating between a high level, which had me screaming, and a very high level, which had me screaming at the top of my lungs. He had no mercy. He demanded five minutes of me screaming in constant pain and he got it.
When my debt had been satisfied he prepared to send me home. I looked around for the clothes I came in, but they were nowhere to be found. Sir R explained, “Your clothes were not appropriate, so I threw them out. You can wear a trash bag home.” I hung my head. We had been here before too. Sir R demanded that I only wear clothes that reflect what a fat and pathetic pig I am. So my clothes must always be designed to make me look unattractive. They are required to be either too big, so I look old and frumpy, or too small, so they emphasize every bulge and roll of fat. If I come over and he deems my clothes too nice, he responds by either throwing them out or “improving” them. Other times he had poured bleach on them, had me piss on them, or cut and ripped holes in them. Since today he chose to throw them out, I was forced to cut holes for my head and arms in a large trash bag to wear as a dress.
I was never allowed to park too close to Sir R’s house lest he be embarrassed by one of his neighbors seeing me. So I would have to walk in my trash bag dress several blocks back to my car. Then, of course, from my car back into my own house. I could only hope that none of my neighbors would be outside to see me. He added to my humiliation by using my red lipstick to write “CUNT” across my forehead. “Since today is Saturday, you will not be permitted to wash your face and erase your label until Monday morning. You will wear it as a reminder all day tomorrow.”
Since I would be sporting my “CUNT” label tomorrow, Sir R knew that meant I wouldn’t be going out. So he sent me home with some additional instructions for me to obey:
1. You will sleep tonight in your trash bag and on the floor.
2. You did not earn the right to sleep late, so you will set your alarm and wake at 6am tomorrow.
3. You may then remove the trash bag. You will remain nude all day.
4. From 6am until 10pm, you will spend 15 minutes of every hour standing in your punishment corner.
5. You will drink one tall glass of juice or soda every hour.
6. You will hand-write an essay of no less than 2,000 words explaining what a pathetic pig you are and why you deserve to be tortured and humiliated.
7. You will piss in the toilet, but may not flush it.
8. You will film yourself torturing your tits, by again placing them in a drawer and slamming it shut. You will slam it on your tits 20 times. You will then send me the film clip. If I am not satisfied that you did it hard enough, you will owe me 15 minutes of screaming.
9. Sunday night you may sleep in your bed, but first you will pour three cups of raw rice in the bed. Spread it out so you will feel it all over your body as you try to sleep.
10. Monday morning, before you are allowed to wash your face, you will place your head in your piss-filled toilet and hold it there while you flush it.
With no further adieu, Sir R pushed out his front door and sent me out to continue enduring my pain and humiliation alone.