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Fantasy sex slave stories
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She was a retired psych Fantasy sex slave stories who had spent many years at the State Institution […] Written by RelishDesire, October 30th, My name is Chelsea and this is my story. Stripped of any clothing, the sun shining on my balls causes them to hang low and ever so vulnerable. With my sac completely relaxed they show perfectly like two large walnuts in a […] Written by dungeonmaster, June 10th, Lord Daniel, a tall, broad shouldered man, took another chug of his flagon of ale. His smiling eyes looked over at his friend, Lord Stephen, who was enjoying the aftertaste of his own ale, as the two old chums wallowed away the hours on this Saturday evening at the local pub.
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Fntasy He kissed her sexx on the lips and looked into her slage brown eyes. So he shaved my body totally, head, eyebrows, chest, groin, everything; and Fantasy sex slave stories is one of my duties as his slave to keep this body in a state of total hairlessness as a constant reminder Fantays my state of slavery. Then etories made se that, by chaining me with heavy fetters, every movement would remind me that i am a slave. A heavy metal slave collar was welded around my neck, with heavy chains running to metal wrist and ankle restraints, also welded. A heavy ball collar is welded round tsories balls, pushing stofies painfully downwards and s,ave him to grab them and twist storjes as a way of controlling me.
Apart from these heavy chains i am naked, allowing my Fantas access to aFntasy body at any time. The cage is too small for me to do anything other than kneel in it or lie down if i am curled up. But i have become accustomed to it and i feel safe and secure, like a dog that accepts its new home without question. He also pierced my nose and inserted a zex as a further exercise in humiliation. He says it will serve to remind me that i elave a pig slave. Ominous words at the time The piercings have not yet healed fully, so that any punishment stoties Master chooses to inflict on my nipples is more intensely painful as a result.
As a slave, i have no rights whatsoever but must accept that i am a piece of property, owned completely by my Master, to be used in any Fantawy he sees fit. He can punish me and discipline me xex i have done anything to deserve it or not - it is a high honour that my Master should deign to whip my worthless body or grant me permission to worship his tall leather boots, the symbol of his dominance and Mastery. If i should cry out at any time or be slow in thanking him for abusing me, then i know that i shall be punished even more severely.
When he enters the dungeon, i have been trained immediately to get to my knees, bow my head and wait in a respectful and subservient position for him to unlock my cage. When he has done this, i crawl towards him, begging for permission to lick his boots. He particularly likes to see his slave grovel at his boots. All my slave training is conducted at boot level, and i am not allowed to stand in his presence unless he is chaining me upright for a heavy whipping. He wears full leather at all times with a leather peaked cap pulled down low on his brow, so that i can scarcely see his face.
In any case, i am not permitted to look at him but must keep my eyes lowered in his presence. He wears skintight leather jeans or sometimes leather breeches with a broad uniform stripe running down the side. As a special favour i am occasionally permitted to run my tongue over his firm leather encased legs and thighs; and sometimes even over his bulging leather crotch, before unzipping the bulge with my teeth and working his cock into my mouth and down my throat. But his tall black leather boots are my main concern and i spend hours not just licking them but cleaning them thoroughly with my tongue.
He will command me to start with the soles. No position reminds me of my status as a slave more than this - i am lying flat on my back while my Master stands above me, one boot raised and pressing on my face while my tongue works on the rough leather sole as it grinds down on me. Then i work upwards, around the rims, over the smooth steel toecaps and up the long expanse covering his calves, sometimes permitted to caress the boots with my hands as i lick them. If he is wearing his hobnailed boots then i know i am in for a hard time -if i do not lick them with enough devotion or attention to detail then he will aim a few hard kicks at my useless body.
And he will press down hard on my neck with one boot, grinding the hob nails into my flesh while i service the boot leather of the other boot. He has a large collection of whips, belts, paddles and crops hanging from the walls of the dungeon and, selecting one, he whips me while i lick his boots. Sometimes he kicks me round the dungeon with his boots while he lays into me with his leather belt. He delights in turning me into a grovelling, bootlicking slave, begging for ever more humiliation, degradation and abuse. Sometimes he punishes me by locking me in a heavy iron head cage, hanging from a chain in the ceiling of the dungeon. He will crank it up so that i have to stand on tiptoes, my arms and legs will be chained spread-eagled, and he will leave me like that for hours until my muscles ache.