Tag Archives: Slave Humiliation

HAVE A SEAT

Some of these male creatures actually enjoy being punished. So a merciless bare bottom thrashing can either be a treat or a torture. Absolutely ridiculous and unacceptable. Sinners should be punished, not rewarded. So we looked to the past for inspiration and what we found was simple and

effective: the stool of repentance. It’s a high, four-legged, backless chair that will topple over if you do not sit completely upright. It’s meant to publicly shame and humiliate any who refuses to submit to Female rule and authority. At Liverpool, on May 16th, a rebellious slave was sentenced as followed: that he should sit in sackcloth, barefooted and barelegged, at the marketplace, on the repentance stool, from sunrise to sunset, during six consecutive Fridays. The stool of repentance can also be used to subdue the lying and seditious tongues of slaves. In Newport, on December 29th, a slave was sentenced for being untruthful and conduct unbecoming. He was condemned to sitting upon the stool of repentance, in the coldest of winters, during eight consecutive market days. Male creatures are famed for their arrogance, ignorance, short-sightedness, stubbornness and stupidity, which means the stool of repentance will be a hot seat for decades to come.
July 2107, Lady Laura – Have A Seat

LIPSTICK & MARKERS

There were a lot of people at the party, but it was not insanely crowded. The Mistresses were in a rebellious mood and one of them ordered me to kneel down in front of Her. She took some lipstick from Her purse and started painting my face. Not gently, but as if She was smearing butter on a slice of bread.
Much, much better, one of the other Ladies giggled.
I had to take off my shirt and several Mistresses dug in to help and used my skin for canvas. Not only with lipstick, but with thick, black markers as well. A Woman’s purse is a thing of miracles and wonders, no question about it.
A Lady in red walked by and looked at my forehead.
By all means, She said and slapped me brutally hard in the face.
I didn’t know it yet, but someone had written SLAP ME on my forehead. There was also a red arrow on my cheek, pointing up, together with the words VACANT ROOM. And there was an arrow on my belly, pointing down, with the words: KICK-A-DICK.
Later that night Mistress pulled out a compact mirror and opened it for me to see. Man, my face looked like a lipstick massacre.
You look very cute, She teased.
I forced my Lancôme Absolute Rouge lips in something of a smile.

FEMDOM TWIST

You get hard at the sight of My boots, My shoes, My feet, My legs, My ponytail, My dress, My jacket, My skirt, My blouse, My nails … I mean, come on, man, what’s wrong with you! Mistress Summer shook Her head in disbelief. You’re not a man, you’re an idiot, a freak, a complete and utter failure. You don’t need a Mistress, you need a therapist and a straightjacket! God, you probably use the empty space between your ears to store boxes and stuff, don’t you? Hush!! I’ll tell you when it’s time to say something stupid. And look at that thing between your legs, that’s just disgusting. And it’s not exactly mount Vesuvius either, is it? It’s a pimple, at best. You have to use tweezers to jerk off. And a search party when you need to pee. Jesus, you suck as a human, suck as a man and suck as a slave. That’s you in a nutshell, isn’t it? You’re just an inferior creature; a waste of time and a waste of space.
The door opened and a second Mistress entered the room. The Ladies talked a bit, then the newcomer pointed at the slave: Who do we have here?
That’s My husband, Mistress Summer said with a sweet smile, I love him to bits.

PUBLIC HUMILIATION

Public humiliations were initially intended to embarrass the naughty ones, not to arouse them. Wrongdoers were tied to a cart and dragged through the streets, had to sit on the repentance stool for a number of Sundays (sometimes with a paper mitre on their head) or ended up in the pillory. Compared to that, going down on your knees in public before your Mistress, is just kid-stuff, wouldn’t you say? I was collared, leashed and paraded through the streets of Paris, wore a slave collar and a T-shirt saying i am a 24/7 slave, in a restaurant in Rome, had to kiss a Lady’s boot on the world famous zebra crossing on Abbey Road, London, was on all fours in Amsterdam with a Mistress sitting on my back, was slapped in the face repeatedly on the Old Town Square in Prague and kneed in the nuts at the airport. One day a Madame took me to a very busy shop and told me to wait at the entrance. Then, after twenty minutes or so, She grabbed me by the ear, dragged me to the shop counter and ordered me (loud and clear) to get my wallet out and pay for Her stuff. All this was meant to humiliate me, but to me these were moments of intense beauty. Because there’s no shame in being a slave. On the contrary: it fills me with enormous pride.