Humiliation for you

[Mistress Zora Jin]

What types of humiliation really makes you feel a loss of pride and reduces you to a puddle of submission? It's so different for everyone so I'm waiting for some compelling answers.

[otaku]

Some forms of physical degradation such as spitting, piss, consumption, eating cum and such because it makes me feel "dirty" and improper. I have some pride in acting like I have decency (even though I have none), so when that's stripped away it's..... difficult being bratty. Another would be begging or saying things that reaffirm my perverseness. For example one time Mistress Kang had me repeat "I'm a slutty little girl" over and over if I wanted her to ______. I was dressed up and extremely uncomfortable/stressed locked in the stockade. But even so I still had a choice. The desire for pleasure overwrote my inhibition.

Verbal humiliation from Mistresses such as sph, physical traits and degradation doesn't really affect me mentally, but I do find it interesting if not funny. 
 

[Zantafio]

Words, indubitably. Contempt, tease, satisfaction, plans for enhanced future humiliation, etc.

[JustAGuy]

There's a big difference for me between helplessness (which is also a big turn-on) and humiliation.  Generally, if I'm tied-up while being whipped or something, I don't feel humiliated unless the Mistress does a lot of verbal-work to degrade me.  But if I'm actively doing something submissive (or especially slutty) I feel degraded.  I feel my ego and pride dissolve as soon as a Mistress makes me beg for something a "real man" shouldn't want.

Any strap-on play is majorly humiliating.  I've found there's a real range of styles between Mistresses too.  There's one Mistress I always associate with sort of raping my face...forcing the dildo deep into my throat, and then forcefully taking my ass.  That can be hot but there's another Mistress who made me feel more degraded and submissive by making me slowly, lovingly suck and kiss her dildo, then taking me in a slower, more...seductive way.  Making me thank her as she worked slow and deep.  Both experiences are hot and both Mistresses are incredible...I suppose at the end of either session I felt really degraded...but there was a deeper level of submission when I was basically forced to acknowledge how much I loved being a slut.

Swallowing spit, getting peed on, and getting really slutty with boot-worship are also things that make me feel like all male pride is being taken away.

[JustAGuy]

Oh yeah and if my Mistress pats me on the head and calls me a "good boy" during ANY of the above!

[Karl]

GS with consumption is very humiliating for me -- so much so that it's sometimes a hard limit and sometimes not.

I had one unusual humiliating experience.  I had a session (not at the Fortress, sorry) which the mistress conducted while wearing typical leather fetish gear.  Afterward, we were talking while I dressed.  She was planning to leave the dungeon.  As part of her changing into street clothes, she casually removed her top.  She had not been bare-breasted during the session.

Normally, a woman would think nothing of exposing her breasts to another woman (changing after a swim at the Y or whatever).  She would not do so in front of a man except deliberately, as in vanilla sex, or in session with the clear context of domme and sub.  This mistress sent me the message that, as far as she was concerned, I was NOT a man.  Therefore, she could change in front of me without it meaning anything.

It was more humiliating than anything she'd done during the hour that I'd paid for.

[franknot]

On 8/31/2019 at 12:51 AM, Mistress Zora Jin said:

What types of humiliation really makes you feel a loss of pride and reduces you to a puddle of submission? It's so different for everyone so I'm waiting for some compelling answers.

 

Humiliation is the abasement of pride, which creates mortification or leads to a state of being humbled or ... ... ... reduced to lowliness or submission. It is an emotion felt by a person whose social status, either by force or willingly, has just decreased... Wikipedia

 

But is it still humiliation or a loss of pride if you crave it, and wallow in it when your finally, happily, receive it?.

Having said that, let me count the ways... but physical only ... verbal would just roll of my back without notice.

So my top 5 are :

1 - spitting/drooling in my mouth  (with face slapping, hair pulling and/or choking)

2 - golden shower with tasting

3 - spanking, (followed by being collared & leashed and then being lead for further punishment 

4 - Smother box 

5 - pegging 

*** Just curious about forced cross-dressing ??.. there is some strange attraction, but confused about this one.

[Mistress Zora Jin]

2 hours ago, franknot said:

 

Humiliation is the abasement of pride, which creates mortification or leads to a state of being humbled or ... ... ... reduced to lowliness or submission. It is an emotion felt by a person whose social status, either by force or willingly, has just decreased... Wikipedia

 

But is it still humiliation or a loss of pride if you crave it, and wallow in it when your finally, happily, receive it?.

Having said that, let me count the ways... but physical only ... verbal would just roll of my back without notice.

So my top 5 are :

1 - spitting/drooling in my mouth  (with face slapping, hair pulling and/or choking)

2 - golden shower with tasting

3 - spanking, (followed by being collared & leashed and then being lead for further punishment 

4 - Smother box 

5 - pegging 

*** Just curious about forced cross-dressing ??.. there is some strange attraction, but confused about this one.

I hope you know that you've just given me a ton of ammo to work with when I see you ? 

[Mistress Zora Jin]

6 hours ago, Karl said:

GS with consumption is very humiliating for me -- so much so that it's sometimes a hard limit and sometimes not.

I had one unusual humiliating experience.  I had a session (not at the Fortress, sorry) which the mistress conducted while wearing typical leather fetish gear.  Afterward, we were talking while I dressed.  She was planning to leave the dungeon.  As part of her changing into street clothes, she casually removed her top.  She had not been bare-breasted during the session.

Normally, a woman would think nothing of exposing her breasts to another woman (changing after a swim at the Y or whatever).  She would not do so in front of a man except deliberately, as in vanilla sex, or in session with the clear context of domme and sub.  This mistress sent me the message that, as far as she was concerned, I was NOT a man.  Therefore, she could change in front of me without it meaning anything.

It was more humiliating than anything she'd done during the hour that I'd paid for.

Lol this reminds me of a scene from the movie Human Centipede. The mad scientist got naked and took a swim in front of his "creation" paying them no mind. 

[Mistress Von Dietz]

16 hours ago, Mistress Zora Jin said:

Lol this reminds me of a scene from the movie Human Centipede. The mad scientist got naked and took a swim in front of his "creation" paying them no mind. 

Omg imagine?   Brutal!  

[Dannyboy]

For me it is a difficult to explain. When we play within agreed upon activities and limits there is virtually no humiliation. I actually feel free in session to do or be whatever the session calls for. I tend to accept any harsh or humiliating comments as fulfillment of the overall intent of the session.

I may run afoul of a Mistress in or out of the dungeon when she is dissatisfied with something. I want my Mistress to be happy. When she is not I feel a sense of utter failure and want to commit seppuku as a follower of the code of bushido.

Dannyboy

 

 

[ConsentOptional]

Haven't been very chatty for a while.  Work-work-work this summer.  So here goes.

The dungeon without walls is my fantasy.  It's more about humbling than humiliating.  But it's in the eye of the beholder.  Anyway...

No matter how shattering a session is, it ends at the door.  "Normal life" resumes.  Whoever I was a few minutes ago, I am one of these people on the train now.  A male and, once again, wearing male clothing. 

No one here will say "On your knees, bitch!" and force me to cover her cock with lipstick while her associate plays with the controls on the electronic probe filling my other hole and say, "you like that, don't you, whore."  Nothing about me on this train says that I was recently hog-tied and made to drink piss from a bowl on the floor.  Or at least I can tell myself so.  I look normal enough to the untrained eye to believe I am.

It's the necessary "transactional" element of sessions.  Sessions end and you can walk away.  The itch is scratched.  It was just an itch after all.  Nothing deeper than that.

So that's where the "dungeon without walls" comes in.  The idea of the trashed exit. 

(Note - it exists in my head.  Only pieces have been acted upon in sessions.   It would require a roleplay in which I had to bring certain items to a session so I could be sent home relieved of the notion that my dungeon has walls...)

The "session" is over.  I am riding the train and taking an inventory of my damages.  The marks on my ass will last all week.  But those could have been anticipated.  Other things could not.  Under my overcoat, I am still wearing my drenched corset and stockings.  I had to button the top button on my coat to conceal the pink slave collar I was not allowed to remove.  Every piece of bare flesh reads "bitch" "whore" "slave gurl" "fuck toy" or some other choice words in permanent marker.  My "holes" have also not been spared the wall-less dungeon.  My vibrating plug is whirring away in my "bussy" on the highest setting while the panties in my mouth ooze a cocktail my own release and their golden down my throat.  And my clit is once again locked up.  They have the only keys. 

There is no point in telling myself that I am "like everyone else" on the train.  I am a feminized, chastised, cum-eating, piss-covered slave.  But I actually had a "choice" about most of that....

....To conclude my evening, they had tied me down to 4 corners on my back.  A gag held my mouth open.  They touched up my lipstick after pissing in my mouth, hair, and all over my corset and stockings.  They unlocked the chastity device I had been forced to wear for a week.  I more or less "boinged" out of it.

"Look at you with your clit getting all hard.  Such a fucking slut."

Speech was difficult with the ring gag.  But more importantly, it was pointless.  They had found the perfect setting of surges and pulses on the electro-cock in my bussy.  They had given me a new identity - bitch slave girl.  But they weren't done yet.

"You think this will all be over soon, don't you, slave girl?  You will go back to being a free male like the other free males you see everywhere.  You will tell yourself you are one of them."

Her eyes looked through me.  She didn't expect an answer.

"We'll make you a deal.  If you don't release, we'll let you change out of that drenched whore outfit and take a nice long shower so you can wash the piss and ink off your body.  We'll take that cock out of your boi pussy and let you put your boi clothes back on and go home.  Won't that be nice, little one?"

It was a chess game in which I was badly overmatched and always 3 moves behind.  I didn't know what would be "nice" anymore.

"But if you fail... you will eat every drop.  You will remain dressed exactly as you are and we will take you downstairs and show the world what a dirty little slut you are.  It's an easy choice, n'est-ce pas?  Free man or publicly recognized slave girl for life?"

It was an easy choice.  Or it would have been if I really were the person I was planning to pretend to be once I got back on the train.  But I wasn't, and all 3 of us knew it.

I lasted as long as I could with the 2 of them whispering in my ear.  "Give up, whore.  This is your true destiny.  We will be your Masters forever.  You're not a male and you know it.  Do as your Masters tell you.  Cum like the little slut you are."

They could seduce plywood.  After a week in chastity I was helpless and splashed all over myself.  As promised, it was soon in my mouth, soaked up along with the residual golden on the table in the worn panties that had been clamped over my nose to overwhelm my olfactory senses at the end.  Several pieces of duct tape replaced the ring gag, holding the panties in place.

The chastity device was locked back on as my clit "receded".  The vibrating plug and slave collar remained in place. 

I was allowed to put on pants and my overcoat.  But that was it.  No shirt over my soaked corset.  The spun me around and locked my wrists in police cuffs behind me.  I was leashed at the slave collar frog-marched down the hall. 

No, this couldn't be happening....

They paused at the bathroom.  "Wouldn't you like to take a nice shower, princess?" 

I nodded 'yes' vigorously. 

"Poor thing.  Slaves aren't allowed to use the shower."

They continued my walk toward oblivion.  We stood by the elevator.  Soon everyone in Chinatown would be sharing my picture on their phones.

"Your old life is over now.  You see that, don't you?"

I nodded and looked  down.  Broken and resigned.

"Good girl."  Abruptly they forced me against the wall and removed the police cuffs.  Lips were at my ear.  "2 of our slaves will be following you home.  If you attempt to remove the panties, plug or slave collar before you get home, the consequences will be unimaginable.  We will see you in 2 weeks.  Good night, slave."

They removed the tape from my mouth and pushed me into the elevator.  They waved the chastity keys at me as the door was closing.  I knew better than to ask if they would let me keep one.

I had just enough time to button up my coat to conceal my slave collar and corset before I was at the ground floor.  I stepped out into the cool evening gagged, plugged, collared, chastised, cross-dressed and drenched.  No, I wasn't the same as everyone else.  I was property.  Exceptionally lucky and thoroughly broken property.

And so on...

 

[franknot]

2 hours ago, ConsentOptional said:

Haven't been very chatty for a while.  Work-work-work this summer.  So here goes.

The dungeon without walls is my fantasy.  It's more about humbling than humiliating.  But it's in the eye of the beholder.  Anyway...

No matter how shattering a session is, it ends at the door.  "Normal life" resumes.  Whoever I was a few minutes ago, I am one of these people on the train now.  A male and, once again, wearing male clothing. 

No one here will say "On your knees, bitch!" and force me to cover her cock with lipstick while her associate plays with the controls on the electronic probe filling my other hole and say, "you like that, don't you, whore."  Nothing about me on this train says that I was recently hog-tied and made to drink piss from a bowl on the floor.  Or at least I can tell myself so.  I look normal enough to the untrained eye to believe I am.

It's the necessary "transactional" element of sessions.  Sessions end and you can walk away.  The itch is scratched.  It was just an itch after all.  Nothing deeper than that.

So that's where the "dungeon without walls" comes in.  The idea of the trashed exit. 

(Note - it exists in my head.  Only pieces have been acted upon in sessions.   It would require a roleplay in which I had to bring certain items to a session so I could be sent home relieved of the notion that my dungeon has walls...)

The "session" is over.  I am riding the train and taking an inventory of my damages.  The marks on my ass will last all week.  But those could have been anticipated.  Other things could not.  Under my overcoat, I am still wearing my drenched corset and stockings.  I had to button the top button on my coat to conceal the pink slave collar I was not allowed to remove.  Every piece of bare flesh reads "bitch" "whore" "slave gurl" "fuck toy" or some other choice words in permanent marker.  My "holes" have also not been spared the wall-less dungeon.  My vibrating plug is whirring away in my "bussy" on the highest setting while the panties in my mouth ooze a cocktail my own release and their golden down my throat.  And my clit is once again locked up.  They have the only keys. 

There is no point in telling myself that I am "like everyone else" on the train.  I am a feminized, chastised, cum-eating, piss-covered slave.  But I actually had a "choice" about most of that....

....To conclude my evening, they had tied me down to 4 corners on my back.  A gag held my mouth open.  They touched up my lipstick after pissing in my mouth, hair, and all over my corset and stockings.  They unlocked the chastity device I had been forced to wear for a week.  I more or less "boinged" out of it.

"Look at you with your clit getting all hard.  Such a fucking slut."

Speech was difficult with the ring gag.  But more importantly, it was pointless.  They had found the perfect setting of surges and pulses on the electro-cock in my bussy.  They had given me a new identity - bitch slave girl.  But they weren't done yet.

"You think this will all be over soon, don't you, slave girl?  You will go back to being a free male like the other free males you see everywhere.  You will tell yourself you are one of them."

Her eyes looked through me.  She didn't expect an answer.

"We'll make you a deal.  If you don't release, we'll let you change out of that drenched whore outfit and take a nice long shower so you can wash the piss and ink off your body.  We'll take that cock out of your boi pussy and let you put your boi clothes back on and go home.  Won't that be nice, little one?"

It was a chess game in which I was badly overmatched and always 3 moves behind.  I didn't know what would be "nice" anymore.

"But if you fail... you will eat every drop.  You will remain dressed exactly as you are and we will take you downstairs and show the world what a dirty little slut you are.  It's an easy choice, n'est-ce pas?  Free man or publicly recognized slave girl for life?"

It was an easy choice.  Or it would have been if I really were the person I was planning to pretend to be once I got back on the train.  But I wasn't, and all 3 of us knew it.

I lasted as long as I could with the 2 of them whispering in my ear.  "Give up, whore.  This is your true destiny.  We will be your Masters forever.  You're not a male and you know it.  Do as your Masters tell you.  Cum like the little slut you are."

They could seduce plywood.  After a week in chastity I was helpless and splashed all over myself.  As promised, it was soon in my mouth, soaked up along with the residual golden on the table in the worn panties that had been clamped over my nose to overwhelm my olfactory senses at the end.  Several pieces of duct tape replaced the ring gag, holding the panties in place.

The chastity device was locked back on as my clit "receded".  The vibrating plug and slave collar remained in place. 

I was allowed to put on pants and my overcoat.  But that was it.  No shirt over my soaked corset.  The spun me around and locked my wrists in police cuffs behind me.  I was leashed at the slave collar frog-marched down the hall. 

No, this couldn't be happening....

They paused at the bathroom.  "Wouldn't you like to take a nice shower, princess?" 

I nodded 'yes' vigorously. 

"Poor thing.  Slaves aren't allowed to use the shower."

They continued my walk toward oblivion.  We stood by the elevator.  Soon everyone in Chinatown would be sharing my picture on their phones.

"Your old life is over now.  You see that, don't you?"

I nodded and looked  down.  Broken and resigned.

"Good girl."  Abruptly they forced me against the wall and removed the police cuffs.  Lips were at my ear.  "2 of our slaves will be following you home.  If you attempt to remove the panties, plug or slave collar before you get home, the consequences will be unimaginable.  We will see you in 2 weeks.  Good night, slave."

They removed the tape from my mouth and pushed me into the elevator.  They waved the chastity keys at me as the door was closing.  I knew better than to ask if they would let me keep one.

I had just enough time to button up my coat to conceal my slave collar and corset before I was at the ground floor.  I stepped out into the cool evening gagged, plugged, collared, chastised, cross-dressed and drenched.  No, I wasn't the same as everyone else.  I was property.  Exceptionally lucky and thoroughly broken property.

And so on...

 

Hey CO,..missed you guy ...

Always look forward to reading your posts... you can make misery seem like a wonderful adventure.

Guess it's good that you're busy but miss those short stories too.

Stay well (???), 

frank

[franknot]

On 9/1/2019 at 7:31 PM, Mistress Zora Jin said:

I hope you know that you've just given me a ton of ammo to work with when I see you ? 

 

I'll think of those as the "Tasting Menu" ... but i'll send along some additional "tapas" suggestions to Ms. Emma.  ...Am i being overly masochistic by giving you even more ammo ?... probably, but more information may be helpful for you to make a thorough diagnosis.

[Mattyorugua]

Spitting, gs, full toilet consumption

[Mistress Zora Jin]

On September 3, 2019 at 2:46 PM, franknot said:

 

I'll think of those as the "Tasting Menu" ... but i'll send along some additional "tapas" suggestions to Ms. Emma.  ...Am i being overly masochistic by giving you even more ammo ?... probably, but more information may be helpful for you to make a thorough diagnosis.

Yes, keep giving me more so my diagnosis will be spot on.  You are knowingly helping me plan your demise ? I hope this masochistic streak continues well into our session. 

[AromaLover21]

On 8/31/2019 at 12:51 AM, Mistress Zora Jin said:

What types of humiliation really makes you feel a loss of pride and reduces you to a puddle of submission? It's so different for everyone so I'm waiting for some compelling answers.

While I thoroughly enjoy coming to the fortress to be made to inhale farts. Part of me still feels this wave of humiliation. I'm often riding a high during the session but afterwards when traveling back home I think to myself " I honestly enjoyed smelling farts." The scent being stuck in my nose. Wondering if anyone who passes by me notices the scent of a womans ass on me. During sessions, being made to beg for farts is humiliating to me but I find myself compelled to do so. It's a conflicting feeling. I enjoy it but my gut twists knowing that I'm pushing aside my shame and letting my perverse side be free. Dirty little fart sniffer.

 

I couldn't imagine being made to dress up. I might die from that humiliation. As comfortable as I am with myself. A stocky guy like me in a dress or bra and panties? Jesus. While no one would ever know I would have to live with that memory.

[Mark73]

On 8/31/2019 at 6:51 AM, Mistress Zora Jin said:

What types of humiliation really makes you feel a loss of pride and reduces you to a puddle of submission? It's so different for everyone so I'm waiting for some compelling answers.

Hi Mistress Zora Jin, I find it very humiliating to be tied up immobilized in front of a mirror and to be fucked like the slut of the Mistress.  I find it very humbling to be forced into a cage like a dog on a leash and feed me leftovers that my Mistress gives me, maybe after spitting or peeing on it.  I find it very liberating to be humiliated by a Mistress.  In normal life we must be labeled while at Fortress we free ourselves and give vent to our fantasies that may be certain unmentionable.

 

Mark

 

[Mistress Zora Jin]

On September 6, 2019 at 1:29 AM, AromaLover21 said:

While I thoroughly enjoy coming to the fortress to be made to inhale farts. Part of me still feels this wave of humiliation. I'm often riding a high during the session but afterwards when traveling back home I think to myself " I honestly enjoyed smelling farts." The scent being stuck in my nose. Wondering if anyone who passes by me notices the scent of a womans ass on me. During sessions, being made to beg for farts is humiliating to me but I find myself compelled to do so. It's a conflicting feeling. I enjoy it but my gut twists knowing that I'm pushing aside my shame and letting my perverse side be free. Dirty little fart sniffer.

 

I couldn't imagine being made to dress up. I might die from that humiliation. As comfortable as I am with myself. A stocky guy like me in a dress or bra and panties? Jesus. While no one would ever know I would have to live with that memory.

Hahaha dirty little fart sniffer! That's exactly what we're calling you from now on ?

[Mistress Zora Jin]

7 hours ago, Mark73 said:

Hi Mistress Zora Jin, I find it very humiliating to be tied up immobilized in front of a mirror and to be fucked like the slut of the Mistress.  I find it very humbling to be forced into a cage like a dog on a leash and feed me leftovers that my Mistress gives me, maybe after spitting or peeing on it.  I find it very liberating to be humiliated by a Mistress.  In normal life we must be labeled while at Fortress we free ourselves and give vent to our fantasies that may be certain unmentionable.

 

Mark

 

Yes, the Fortress is a safe space to be free and let your kinky side run wild. 

[Mark73]

1 hour ago, Mistress Zora Jin said:

Yes, the Fortress is a safe space to be free and let your kinky side run wild. 

Yes Mistress, I'm organizing to come and do a session with you next month.

[franknot]

On 9/5/2019 at 5:29 PM, Mistress Zora Jin said:

Yes, keep giving me more so my diagnosis will be spot on.  You are knowingly helping me plan your demise ? I hope this masochistic streak continues well into our session. 

Ms. Jin..

My plan is to disrupt your plan by overwhelming you with too many options... and so while trying to choose one or two that might please you most, you'll lose concentration.

 While i'm far from being a masochist, my plan 'B' involves enduring the necessary pain and humiliation to simply experience your presence and to feel your occasional touch. 

"Demise" might be too strong a word for someone my age to contemplate... but It seems that you've managed to energize me,.. i now have a purpose ... to stay as fit as i can .. then meet you and "survive" you.

[Mistress Zora Jin]

On September 8, 2019 at 1:18 PM, franknot said:

Ms. Jin..

My plan is to disrupt your plan by overwhelming you with too many options... and so while trying to choose one or two that might please you most, you'll lose concentration.

 While i'm far from being a masochist, my plan 'B' involves enduring the necessary pain and humiliation to simply experience your presence and to feel your occasional touch. 

"Demise" might be too strong a word for someone my age to contemplate... but It seems that you've managed to energize me,.. i now have a purpose ... to stay as fit as i can .. then meet you and "survive" you.

?

I'm very good at staying on task lol it would be hard for me to lose concentration. Your plans are not fool proof. 

Also it wouldn't be the worst way to go if you didn't survive me ?

[Mistress Zora Jin]

On September 3, 2019 at 7:28 AM, ConsentOptional said:

Haven't been very chatty for a while.  Work-work-work this summer.  So here goes.

The dungeon without walls is my fantasy.  It's more about humbling than humiliating.  But it's in the eye of the beholder.  Anyway...

No matter how shattering a session is, it ends at the door.  "Normal life" resumes.  Whoever I was a few minutes ago, I am one of these people on the train now.  A male and, once again, wearing male clothing. 

No one here will say "On your knees, bitch!" and force me to cover her cock with lipstick while her associate plays with the controls on the electronic probe filling my other hole and say, "you like that, don't you, whore."  Nothing about me on this train says that I was recently hog-tied and made to drink piss from a bowl on the floor.  Or at least I can tell myself so.  I look normal enough to the untrained eye to believe I am.

It's the necessary "transactional" element of sessions.  Sessions end and you can walk away.  The itch is scratched.  It was just an itch after all.  Nothing deeper than that.

So that's where the "dungeon without walls" comes in.  The idea of the trashed exit. 

(Note - it exists in my head.  Only pieces have been acted upon in sessions.   It would require a roleplay in which I had to bring certain items to a session so I could be sent home relieved of the notion that my dungeon has walls...)

The "session" is over.  I am riding the train and taking an inventory of my damages.  The marks on my ass will last all week.  But those could have been anticipated.  Other things could not.  Under my overcoat, I am still wearing my drenched corset and stockings.  I had to button the top button on my coat to conceal the pink slave collar I was not allowed to remove.  Every piece of bare flesh reads "bitch" "whore" "slave gurl" "fuck toy" or some other choice words in permanent marker.  My "holes" have also not been spared the wall-less dungeon.  My vibrating plug is whirring away in my "bussy" on the highest setting while the panties in my mouth ooze a cocktail my own release and their golden down my throat.  And my clit is once again locked up.  They have the only keys. 

There is no point in telling myself that I am "like everyone else" on the train.  I am a feminized, chastised, cum-eating, piss-covered slave.  But I actually had a "choice" about most of that....

....To conclude my evening, they had tied me down to 4 corners on my back.  A gag held my mouth open.  They touched up my lipstick after pissing in my mouth, hair, and all over my corset and stockings.  They unlocked the chastity device I had been forced to wear for a week.  I more or less "boinged" out of it.

"Look at you with your clit getting all hard.  Such a fucking slut."

Speech was difficult with the ring gag.  But more importantly, it was pointless.  They had found the perfect setting of surges and pulses on the electro-cock in my bussy.  They had given me a new identity - bitch slave girl.  But they weren't done yet.

"You think this will all be over soon, don't you, slave girl?  You will go back to being a free male like the other free males you see everywhere.  You will tell yourself you are one of them."

Her eyes looked through me.  She didn't expect an answer.

"We'll make you a deal.  If you don't release, we'll let you change out of that drenched whore outfit and take a nice long shower so you can wash the piss and ink off your body.  We'll take that cock out of your boi pussy and let you put your boi clothes back on and go home.  Won't that be nice, little one?"

It was a chess game in which I was badly overmatched and always 3 moves behind.  I didn't know what would be "nice" anymore.

"But if you fail... you will eat every drop.  You will remain dressed exactly as you are and we will take you downstairs and show the world what a dirty little slut you are.  It's an easy choice, n'est-ce pas?  Free man or publicly recognized slave girl for life?"

It was an easy choice.  Or it would have been if I really were the person I was planning to pretend to be once I got back on the train.  But I wasn't, and all 3 of us knew it.

I lasted as long as I could with the 2 of them whispering in my ear.  "Give up, whore.  This is your true destiny.  We will be your Masters forever.  You're not a male and you know it.  Do as your Masters tell you.  Cum like the little slut you are."

They could seduce plywood.  After a week in chastity I was helpless and splashed all over myself.  As promised, it was soon in my mouth, soaked up along with the residual golden on the table in the worn panties that had been clamped over my nose to overwhelm my olfactory senses at the end.  Several pieces of duct tape replaced the ring gag, holding the panties in place.

The chastity device was locked back on as my clit "receded".  The vibrating plug and slave collar remained in place. 

I was allowed to put on pants and my overcoat.  But that was it.  No shirt over my soaked corset.  The spun me around and locked my wrists in police cuffs behind me.  I was leashed at the slave collar frog-marched down the hall. 

No, this couldn't be happening....

They paused at the bathroom.  "Wouldn't you like to take a nice shower, princess?" 

I nodded 'yes' vigorously. 

"Poor thing.  Slaves aren't allowed to use the shower."

They continued my walk toward oblivion.  We stood by the elevator.  Soon everyone in Chinatown would be sharing my picture on their phones.

"Your old life is over now.  You see that, don't you?"

I nodded and looked  down.  Broken and resigned.

"Good girl."  Abruptly they forced me against the wall and removed the police cuffs.  Lips were at my ear.  "2 of our slaves will be following you home.  If you attempt to remove the panties, plug or slave collar before you get home, the consequences will be unimaginable.  We will see you in 2 weeks.  Good night, slave."

They removed the tape from my mouth and pushed me into the elevator.  They waved the chastity keys at me as the door was closing.  I knew better than to ask if they would let me keep one.

I had just enough time to button up my coat to conceal my slave collar and corset before I was at the ground floor.  I stepped out into the cool evening gagged, plugged, collared, chastised, cross-dressed and drenched.  No, I wasn't the same as everyone else.  I was property.  Exceptionally lucky and thoroughly broken property.

And so on...

 

I love this! 

[franknot]

On 9/15/2019 at 11:06 AM, Mistress Zora Jin said:

Also it wouldn't be the worst way to go if you didn't survive me ?

 

Of course you're right.. it would be the best possible exit ?...  Are you always so logical?

You might be able to wipe the smile off my face ? before the paramedics arrive...but how will you explain those vivid red hand prints on my cold, white ass.

Please ask Ms. Kang to mount a small brass memorial plaque in the grey room ... how about.. "Frank (definitely is) Not"  with the date.

But please, no flowers and stuffed toy animals ... it's so tacky.