It

It

It didn’t know how much time has passed since it was hanging here. Judging from the slowly subsiding pain in its cunt it’d have guesses a couple of hours. Time didn’t matter for it anymore though. It didn’t know what time it was, let alone what day, week or time of year. It was hung by its legs after a training session with Master and his slave and was left until it was to be used further. it repeated to itself just how useless it was and that it was glad Master took it as his. It vaguely remembered a time when it still had a name and a pathetic sorry life, or at least the appearance of a life. Its life as a person ended the day Master made it watch as he burned her ID, destroying the person it once pretended to be. Master put a hood over its head, holes left only for its nostrils and its mouth, even though its mouth was gagged most of the time. It felt a padlock click shut on the collar of the hood. Master still had the keys, but as far as it was concerned he could have thrown them away. Its hands were locked in a reverse prayer in a bondage glove, padlocked as well. It must have been years since it was last allowed to use its arms. If it was released now its arms would be as useless as the whole lowly existence of it.

It was owned by Master by its own wish; actually it approached Master and begged to be owned. He made it bear no doubt in its useless mind it would be taken for good. Its last act of free will was to bow down and kiss his boots after it signed the contract that made it his for the rest of its life. Master made it clear that it would solely exist to be abused in the worst possible ways, that it would exist only for his pleasure. Its heart burned with gratitude as he spoke. And it burned now as it knew he kept his promise.

Its day started when Master pulled the gag from its mouth and pissed down its throat. He never waited for it to thank him but re-gagged it straight away. These days he only gave its tits a quick caning that made her see starts before he went off to work. It stayed like he left it and waited for the slave to wake up.

The slave hated it. For some reason she felt jealous of it, even though it never even craved what the slave had. The slave had a life, even had a slave’s name and a “real” one. It wanted neither. At first it felt bad about being tortured not only by Master’s strong hands but also by his slave. In time it came to realize it didn’t deserve better and that being tortured by a slave made it even more worthless. Slave awoke later and usually greeted it by a swift kick to its cunt that sent it to the floor. It moaned as slave took off its gag and gushed a hot torrent of piss in its mouth. Slave always sat down heavily on its hooded face and grinded her nails into its teats as she pissed. Slave expected no thanks either, in fact it didn’t remember the last time it spoke. On an average day it was left lying on the floor since slave had chores to complete too. Her Master expected her to earn his good temper. But occasionally slave took her time making it writhe in pain. Slave put it on the side and grinded its teats under her boot. Sometimes when slave was cleaning the place, slave put the tube of the vacuum cleaner over its clit and let it suck its clit until it was blind with pain. Other times, after slave had finished cleaning the dishes she dragged it to the sink and put its head under water and made it swallow mouthfuls of dirty water while spanking its ass with a spatula. Slave also had to take care of its hygiene. She had to remove its huge butt plug once a day and give it an enema. Most of the times she replaced the gag with the filthy butt plug while it held the enema. Slave also had to release the catheter tube and make it piss, but not without fucking its pisshole roughly with the tube. It was also scrubbed each day using only cold water. Slave took her time cleaning its dirty cunt, scratching it raw almost every day. Besides this Master has also designed a daily schedule of training tasks slave had to perform on it and she did gladly. It received heavy blows with a bull whip to its ass, cane hits to its udders, and countless hits of a crop to its cunt. Also its udders were bound tightly and weights attached to its teats and cuntlips to stretch them each day. Sometimes slave decided to have some fun and used a strap-on of enormous proportions to fuck its ass. During that it usually dreamt about the time Master broke its anal cherry with his fist and was looking forward to the next time Master would fuck its fuck with his foot. It never resisted any torture being laid upon it by slave. Not only because it would have hell to pay but also because it figured it deserved that just as well.

Once Master was home he and slave settled down to eat. Its food contained of nothing but dog food and piss. Master rested his feet on its body and casually kicked its aching tits as he ate. In the evening it became their entertainment. It was whipped, caned, submitted to cigarettes, needles and electricity. Occasionally they forgot the tens unit in its cunt and asshole were still on the highest setting and went to sleep leaving it lying on the ground its holes being fried all night. In the morning Master would then be angry, not because of it, but because of the waste of electricity. Torturing it became their foreplay. And the closest it ever came to feeling his dick inside her was to suckle his sperm out of slave’s cunt or ass while she got to lick his dick clean. Nonetheless it did get fucked. It had regularly fists and feet in its cunt and asshole and Master took his time to train it to cum from pain alone. Through the hood it heard them both laugh as it came while its’ cunt was beaten to a bloody pulp.

During parties at Master’s home it would be displayed and guests were allowed and encouraged to abuse it to their hearts’ content as long as it never got to feel a real dick. Chances were slim anyway, since word was spread that it got off on being whipped. It was whipped for endless hours during parties nowadays, just cumming again and again as it was whipped by the unseen hands of strangers.

Yet if it had still been appropriate it would have said that it was as happy as it could be. It found its’ one purpose in life and lived it to the fullest. May others crave fame or love, it craved nothing more than what it had, a sheer existence of pain and misery. It was all it was ever meant to be: it.

Always room for one more. Do apply: Memento74@web.de