On those weekends as a slut bitch, I was forbidden to come, but.... Part two of four.

 

During those weekends, the boys played with my body with sadism and cruelty. I was naked and on a collar the whole time without eating anything. They used my mouth and anus for whatever they wanted; all I drank were liters of piss and cum, without choking.

I obeyed all commands and orders without hesitation, submissively and obediently. They beat me with leather belts and punched and slapped me violently.

I loved everything they did with me. Several times my cock was hard and pulsing, denouncing my excitement and horny.

They warned me: Faggot, don't come! Fag, if you come, you will be punished!

The worst thing is that the threats of punishment turned me on even more.

I liked it best when they held me and pinched my nipples and cock with their hands and pliers. The pains were terrible, but the pleasure and excitement were immense.

At one point, they grabbed my hard cock with the pliers and started twisting and pulling it, yelling: We don't allow you to come bitch!

Then, cause of the pain and humiliation, I had a violent orgasm and spat out lots of cum!

Happy to imagine what the punishment would be!

I had my first experience as a slave and a bitch. Part one of four.

I've always believed I should surrender myself as a slave to someone who wanted to use me in a cruel and sadistic way. But he wasn't sure he could bear to do that permanently and irreversibly. So I looked on the web for someone who wanted to use me for a short and determined time. A group of students who lived in the same house said they would charge $100 to use me for a holiday week.

When I arrived, the young man greeted me at the apartment door, smiling and in a good mood. I handed him the document signed by me and registered in the registry office, in which I reiterated everything we had established in our conversations on the net.

He reiterated that, as we had agreed, I would be called the Bitch and should remain completely silent for as long as I was with them.

As soon as I entered the apartment, he stripped me of all my clothes and put a leash on me.

I spent the week like that, naked and on a collar. They installed a tight ring at the base of my cock and scrotum, which prolonged my erections.

They enjoyed making me walk on all fours and sucking their dicks many times. They humiliated me, beat and fucked me cruelly, countless times.

They didn't let me come once but pinched my nipples, keeping me aroused and horny.

They spent entire days lounging on the sofa in front of the TV while I sucked them, and they beat me. In those days, I drank liters of their sperm and piss, and their penises and dildos stuffed me that they stuck in my anus.

On my last day there, the guy I made a deal with told me they would have another holiday week in two months but that if I wanted to go back there, I would now have to pay $500 and accept more violent beatings.

My dick was hard at the time, and I could only reply:

My Lord, I pay and accept to review all limits, but you can be sure I'll be at your door in two months.

The sow fulfilling its destiny. Last part of three.

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The fag came to be called a "horny pig" and was often forced to work naked. Part two of three.

The persistent, evident excitement and acceptance of the faggot fueled the humiliations and cruelties of all colleagues.

Some workers liked being sucked and fucked, but others enjoyed beating and torturing him, especially in public, making him hornier.

As the managers and supervisors knew and accepted well, soon, all the humiliations and cruelties began to come out of the locker rooms and take place in the mess hall and all areas of the slaughterhouse.

The fag came to be called a "horny pig" and was often forced to work naked.

Colleagues started putting him to do some of the heaviest, nastiest, or dirtiest jobs, and he complied without complaint.

The cargo cart became his wagon, and he the pack mule.

Sometimes they tied pieces of pigs to him, like ears and paws, and stuck brooms up his ass to humiliate and injure him.

He never complained, disobeyed, or tried to escape from any humiliation.

When the cruelty or violence were worse, his dick aroused harder and dripped!

A story I made together with my friend @AndresG11277166

The slut hog from the slaughterhouse. Part one of three.

 

When the slut fag started working at the meatpacking plant, he had to use the changing rooms and showers with the other workers and was soon identified as the company fag. The problem is that when "colleagues" mocked and offended him, he got even more excited and his cock more erect and dripping.

He enjoyed being humiliated and bullied, so not only did he not complain about the treatment, but he also induced others to be even more aggressive and violent in humiliation.

Seeing that this was what the boy wanted, the managers and superiors began to encourage the entire team to abuse the employee.

The uniform was a thick fabric overall, which everyone wore over other clothes, but they made the fag work all day in just the overalls, and he loved working like that.

During working hours, the other workers slapped him and pinched his ass and dick. He was forced to give blowjobs during rest and meal times, and no one, not even himself, made any complaints.

At the end of the day, in the locker room, the other workers would fuck him and get blowjobs making a point of covering him with cum. He was ordered to go away always filthy with sperm, sleep dirty and return like that the next day to shower only at the beginning of the workday. He obeyed without question and was excited about everything.

A story I made together with my friend @AndresG11277166

This is the place I always wanted to be.

 

I liked to feel pain; since childhood, I always had fantasies of being kidnapped, tortured, raped, and enslaved. I would tease my classmates countless times until I got them to beat me up. I always bother everyone, strangers in dark alleys, my bosses, boyfriends, and the police until they beat me up. I never looked for normal relationships or jobs; I always tried to get into situations where I could end up fulfilling my most terrible and violent dreams.

One day I met a guy on the net who proposed that he sell me to a genuinely sadistic group; I didn't hesitate to accept the offer.

I had nothing of value, nor affective, family or professional ties that would prevent my complete and definitive disappearance. I've always dreamed of simply disappearing from the world of men and becoming a sex toy for some perverted, cruel sadist. I signed every contract and form that my broker presented to me. I was excited to read them; I authorized whoever squeezed me to do whatever they wanted with my body; allowed the extraction and donation of all organs; all kinds of torture; eternal captivity, or simple execution. I got turned on and masturbated every time I read the contracts.

After weeks he brought me to this place, where they unceremoniously stripped me, chained me up, and started torturing me.

I've been here for so many days, I've lost track of time; it could be weeks or months, I don't know. I no longer know how many times I was whipped, raped, and tortured in how many ways.

I felt pains that I didn't imagine existed or be able to bear. I've screamed desperately and cried a lot, but when I spend the night on the bench tied up and alone, waiting for the sadists to arrive the following day, my dick still gets hard, and sometimes I still come.

This is the life I always wanted.

We agreed that if one of us decided to end the game, it would be enough to remove the collar and complete the experience.

Since I gave myself to my Owner, I made it clear that I wanted to be his slut bitch, on a 24/7 basis.

He didn't believe I would put up with this regimen for long, and I also doubted if it would work as in my dreams and fantasies. We agreed on how our routine would be, the safe words, the rules, and that when one of us decided to end the game, it was enough to say, remove the collar and end the experience. But gradually, we're testing and pushing each other's boundaries, and here we have been for over eight months, still loving it all.

Over time I got used to permanent nudity, even on the coldest nights, in front of his friends and family. One of the difficulties was getting used to the floor, getting used to all fours almost all the time, sleeping on the hard, cold floor, and not sitting on chairs or sofas anymore. I've always been shy, so it wasn't hard to learn not to say anything. Today, I am pleased that I can go months without even saying a word, just a few moans, and grunts.

What worked best was my condition as a slut. I suck my Master's dick several times a day; when he wakes up, the first piss of the day he makes directly in my mouth; sometimes, during meals and before he goes to bed, I unzip his pants, and I quickly put his cock in my mouth to make him come or piss. I learned how to do it by drinking everything without spilling anything.

I also really like it when he or any of his friends fuck my ass. Nor can I say that I don't like it when they decide to shove something up my anus, just out of sadism or cruelty. Sometimes they exaggerate and end up hurting or causing unbearable pain, but things like this were already foreseen and are part of our prior agreement.

Learning to eat hands-free, directly from the pots or the floor, took me time. But today, I can eat everything my man puts for me without leaving any leftovers. During those months, I loved staying at his house, without contact with anyone I knew, living here, isolated, waiting for him, serving him, and being his all the time.

However, what I love most, my most desired dream, comes true when he whips me with force and violence. I never get tired of being whipped, I never ask for a break, and I never try to protect myself or escape.

Feeling the leather of the whip tearing my back is my biggest turn-on. What delights me is realizing that my Owner also enjoys whipping me, I think he gets as excited as I do. He whips with gusto, horny, and cruelty every day.

I don't know if I'll stay here, in this life, until the last of my days. But I can say that after months I still haven't had any regrets; I never wanted to leave or give up.