Every day, little by little, each co-worker felt authorized and even invited to humiliate and abuse the Pig. He obeyed all orders without question, offering himself to the cruelest humiliations.
His manager, who considered him a complete asshole, decided to take the lead in the humiliations.
He explained to the subordinate: since you are now the department slut pig, from now on, you will only eat dog food straight from this bowl, and you will only drink the piss of your colleagues.
The servant obeyed on all fours and ate the ration without question.
The manager amused himself by stepping on the back of the fag's head and burying his face in the pissed ration. The employee swallowed and chewed the food with difficulty, choking and smearing himself without attempting to resist or complaining.
After making his subordinate eat the ration, he ordered him to hand over his company meal card.
In the next department meeting, the manager proposed to the other employees that, as the fag would start to eat the pissed ration every day in the office, his meal voucher would pay for everyone else's lunch.
All employees went out every day at lunchtime, walking and talking animatedly to one of the neighborhood restaurants. The manager established that the faggot would follow the group, barefoot and shirtless, with his hands behind his back and silent. The rule stated that the awful queer would follow the group about three paces behind so as not to be mistaken for one of them. He had to spend the entire lunch hour with an old pencil between his teeth to ensure he didn't say anything and remain quiet.
While the employees ate lunch, the Pig waited quietly and stood on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant, like a beggar or homeless person.
On returning from lunch, everyone went to the bathroom and pissed in an old jug. This jar was poured into the feed, and the Pig ate its lunch in front of everyone.
Loved the slaves being barefoot and shirtless in public, I tried going out barefoot and shirtless, ashamed but I was excited and enjoyed it.
ReplyDeleteThe same thing happens to me, the more embarrassed and ashamed I get, the more I get excited. I once forced a slave of mine to walk into a motel naked and walk to our room. He thanked me for years!
DeleteA friend of mine, middle of the day - full daylight, put me in a muzzle and had me walk across the street to the ATM. Other than the muzzle all I had on was a a harness, pair of cloth short-shorts and some Converse high tops. I live 2 blocks from a major university campus. It was one of the most difficult and most exhilarating things I have ever done. I wanted to bolt back to my apartment building, but realized that while some people might notice my face was buried in a leather muzzle, if I bolted I guaranteed that many more people would notice. Not to mention, bolting would mean failure to get cash out of the ATM. I dreaded the consequences of that failure just a bit more than I did the feeling of everyone on the block looking at me. I slowly walked to the ATM, slowly conducted my business and then sauntered back to my building. Once inside I bounded up the eight flights of stairs with the boner I'd been sporting rubbing against my shorts and creating a jizz stain.
ReplyDeleteMy friend rewarded me with a hardy "GOOD BOY" as he slid off my muzzle and pushed my face into his crotch.
Going out on the street, wearing only old, short shorts, no underwear, barefoot, and no shirt, with a plug stuck in your ass, making it uncomfortable, painful, and making it difficult to walk, is very exciting for fagots like us. Especially when we are neither young nor beautiful, our bodies are not objects of pride or vanity. Flabby, fat, and old bodies like us are a reason for contempt and mockery, especially if we sport bruises and welts from beatings. This public shame excites us.
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