Three years of slavery: physical transformations. Part four.

Since I surrendered myself as a slave to my Owner, we agreed that I would no longer have any decision about myself and that I accepted being his without limits or expectations.

He doesn't know me, nor is he interested in getting to know me; I'm not his friend; I'm not even a person; I'm just his slut fag. So when I arrived at the house and undressed for the last time, he examined me with some disappointment.

I was never pretty, firm, or sporty; I was just a dull body over thirty years old.

When he fucked me a few times, I remember him complaining about the opening of my ass. He started inserting plugs and dildos bigger and broader. He stuck big dildos in my anus and ordered me to keep them inside me all day. He doesn't care if it hurts or bothers me a lot; I have to bear it in silence. He knows my ass better than I do. Sometimes, he starts to insert an extra large dildo, and I despair, afraid that I will be split in half or that the monster will destroy me from the inside. The pain is terrible, and I sweat a lot as he tries to push it deeper until it no longer comes out. Sometimes I can't breathe, sometimes my ass bleeds, but he always manages to get what he wants into me.

I remain still, silent, and bear it without complaining. I am his sex toy.

What scares me sometimes is him talking to someone about me as if I weren't there, listening to the conversation. He asks his friends, who are veterinarians or doctors, what he should inject into me, the doses, and the places for the injections, and he injects without me knowing what he intends or the effect it will have. One day, he told someone that he wanted to break my nose so that it would look like a pig's; the guy took my nose and showed him where they could break the cartilage and how to force the nose up. The guy offered to do a surgical stitch so that my broken nose would be in the position he wanted.

Once, when he was shoving a dildo down my throat, I couldn't breathe as the toy went down my throat. I despaired, thinking I was going to die right there; I passed out while he calmly looked at me in agony as if he didn't care. When I woke up, I felt blood in my throat, which was very sore and raw. In the following days, he inserted even thicker dildos, deeper, widening my throat mercilessly. I fainted several times, but he didn't give up on making me a professional cock swallower.

As he loved to torture nipples, he placed suckers on my tits, sucking them hard so that they became increasingly pointier and bigger. As he wanted to torture my dick and balls, he started putting suckers that made my genitals huge.

He would go to work and leave me there, on the laundry room floor, with the suckers, with the hooks pulling my nose and cheeks in complete suffering, all day.

When he arrived at night, he would let me go so I could serve him dinner, and then, even before I ate anything, he would inject several syringes into my dick and my nipples. He would give some injections in my butt and arms. He never bothered to tell me what he did or what would happen, and I just accepted it because I'm his slut, right?

In a short time, my body was already very different from what it was before, and my libido was also other.

Three years of slavery: getting used to the pain. Part three.

My Owner is sadistic; he takes pleasure in causing pain and suffering. My entire body is completely his; my skin is his space for fun and cruelty.

Part of my suffering he inflicts not as punishment but for simple pleasure. When he is settled in his armchair and calls me, I should stop whatever I am doing and kneel next to him so that he can easily reach me and have fun with me.

He usually hugs me with his left arm, almost affectionately, and starts crushing my nipples. He does it as a habit, without looking at me, without paying attention to what he's doing, like someone knitting or playing with a keychain, except he plays with my nipples. He spends hours pinching, twisting, and crushing calmly and with great force. The pain is almost unbearable. I writhe, moan, and cry from so much pain, but I believe he has no idea how much my breasts hurt as he continues crushing them without mercy or haste, just because he likes to feel them between his strong fingers.

I try to avoid moaning; I try not to move; I try not to disturb his pleasure, even though he hurts me so immensely.

When he watches TV or talks to a friend, he spends hours playing with my tits.

Sometimes, he smokes cigars; he likes big, thick Cuban cigars, which he smokes with significant, long drags. At first, I liked the smell; with time, I just smelled it and started to sweat with fear, as it has a habit of putting cigars on me. From the first time he placed the lit cigar against my back, he lovingly covered my mouth with his hand, stopping me from screaming in pain. He got into the habit of hugging me affectionately, covering my mouth as he slowly touched the lit cigar to my body until he put it out.

In this tender gesture, he sees me and carefully chooses where to place the cigar flame. Sometimes, he decides to burn over burns from other cigars, reinforcing the wounds and their scars. Sometimes, he decides on nipples that are already injured and sore from so much squeezing that even after being burned, he continues to pinch and crush mercilessly.

My Owner sometimes receives friends who, like him, are sadists and like to cause pain. They want to talk animatedly about ways to cause pain and torture, and sometimes, they talk using my body to play with.

One of them uses me as if I were his, violently and mercilessly. My Owner doesn't seem to care; he talks to him distractedly, as if he were talking about a football match. They spoke as if I wasn't there, on all fours, naked and receiving racket blows so hard that my butt was covered in wounds and blood.

The guest raised his arm high and delivered violent blows that painfully destroyed my butt. Then he grabbed my balls as if they were tennis balls and hit them with his racket as if I wasn't going to faint from so much pain without any mercy.

With time and daily pain, I ended up getting used to the suffering and learning to endure it in silence, firm, resigned, even crying and moaning softly so as not to disturb my Owner's fun.

To see the previous part click: https://bdsmmaledrawings.blogspot.com/2023/11/three-years-of-slavery-part-two.html

Three years of slavery: humiliation. Part two.

Being a submissive slave has a series of challenges. I know that I am nothing more than a shitty faggot to my Owner, that he despises me. He takes pleasure in humiliating and treating me poorly, and I realize that the humiliation helps me understand what a shit I am.

I feel so despicable and miserable how he treats me; I feel like I deserve to be treated this way, that a stupid submissive faggot is a piece of shit like he says and makes me think.

When I entered the house, he showed me that I should sleep under a table, in a corner of the laundry area, directly on the cold ceramic floor. He didn't even give me an old cloth to cover or lay on.

At first, I thought sleeping there like this, on the hard, cold floor, would be a big challenge, but I got used to it. When my owner enters the kitchen in the middle of the night, he checks if I'm there, just as he told me.

One cold winter night, he noticed that I was shaking from the cold and asked if I was freezing. I answered yes, imagining he would give me a cloth to cover me and keep me warm. He just pissed profusely all over me, from head to toe. I've never felt your piss ever so warm and comforting.

Beside me are the water and food bowls. He forbade me to drink or eat anything that wasn't in the bowls. I had to learn to drink and eat without using my hands, on all fours, directly from the pots, like a dog. He controls the amount of food and water I consume and frequently pisses in the bowls. I only have to eat as much as he puts in the bowl, everything he puts in. Sometimes, he makes me suffer from hunger, giving me just one measly meal a day. I feel my stomach growling with hunger all day. Sometimes he makes me suffer from thirst and only lets me drink his piss directly from the source.

Another way to humiliate me is to lend me to your friends. I don't know if he rents it to me or lends it for free. I know that sometimes, one of his friends blindfolds me and, ties my wrists behind my back, puts me in the trunk of the car, and takes me somewhere. There, blindfolded and gagged, I can't tell how many guys raped me; I lose track of time; I believe I stayed there for many hours without rest, and I can't count how many times I'm fucked. They don't see my face; to them, I'm just an open ass to be fucked.

I feel like an object, a hole without value or name.

I love being reduced to shit in every way.

To see the previous part click: https://bdsmmaledrawings.blogspot.com/2023/11/three-years-of-slavery.html

Three years of slavery: the tasks. Part One.

It's been three years since I've been outside the house. Three years ago, I agreed to be my Master's slave.

From the beginning, he made it clear that it would not be an emotional relationship, that he would have neither affection, nor respect, nor even consideration for me, that I would just be his slave.

I agreed and accepted.

He said that I would never wear any clothes again, that from that moment on I would live naked all the time, winter or summer. In the beginning, I still suffered a little, whether due to the shame or the cold. Today, I am used to nudity, feel comfortable, and no longer suffer from the cold.

I only wear the collars and handcuffs he put on me so he could tie me up either at home or put leashes on my collar. I thought it was fair and necessary.

He said that only he should feel orgasms in the house, that I should feel pleasure just serving him. He put a cage on my dick and didn't take it off for months.

I accepted, my dick is his, not mine.

He said I should do all the chores around the house.

I agreed and obeyed.

Today, from when I wake up until he puts me in the cell, I work incessantly washing his clothes, preparing all his meals, tidying the kitchen and the entire house, taking care of the garden, and cleaning his car.

When he gets home, I welcome him on my knees; he arrives tired and usually takes his first piss in my mouth. I manage to swallow everything so competently that not a drop is spilled on the carpet in the house.

Today, I realize that I have never been so full and happy in my life.

As a fagot, masochist, and submissive, this is my role and place.

One day, he realized that in his deep soul, he envied these miserable and handsome servants tied on the totems.

Court princesses could use servants as they saw fit. It was considered suitable for their training, education, and future to know everything about sexuality and sex. That's why the noblewomen organized a section of the palace's garden so they could stroll around pleasantly, talking about issues of sexuality. This themed garden was surrounded by tall hedges, which delimited flowerbeds with sculptures, pavilions, and totems with themes relating to sexuality. Court women could take young men to serve them sexually, selected and trained to give them pleasure.

Some nobles chose some of the most gifted and handsome young men and gave them as gifts to the Garden of Delights.

Phallic totems of varying sizes, made of solid stone, were used to tie these naked boys so that they could be handled, tortured, or dissected for the pleasure or education of the court girls.

Some of the young men tied up had their dicks hard, excited by fear and nudity. Some were masturbated by the girls many times until they used up the last drop of sperm. Others were chosen to serve as sex toys in their rooms.

Some of the young men were so shocked to see others like him being whipped to death just for the amusement of the maidens that they were petrified, catatonic, and unable to plead for mercy or attempt to escape the brutal and fatal fate.

The beautiful princess in the drawing is interested in and enjoys the sexual use of whips and how men get horny when they are tortured. She placed bells on the nipples of one of her servants and blinded him to serve as her toy pony in the garden. So, riding on her blind pony, she spent entire days destroying some boys tied to totems.

So many times, she whipped her slut pony almost to death cause she was intrigued that he got a hard-on when he was whipped or when he saw or heard other men being brutally whipped. That's why she decided to make him her pet blind pony.

The boy tied to the totem on the left in the drawing is not a servant. He is from a wealthy merchant family who was sent to court to see if any princesses would marry him. He frequented the garden and got very horny seeing young men like him being whipped. He discovered that deep down in his being, he was jealous of their fate. He asked his father to give it as a gift for the garden. The father soon realized the advantages this could bring him. He requested an audience with the Duchess, and before her and the court, he undressed his son, collared the pervert, and gave him as his gift to the Garden of Delights.

The princesses placed him on the last of the totems so that he could watch with a hard-on the others being whipped to death.

Now he's happy his turn has come!