108 Days an Object

I hesitate to write about this, not wanting another "slave" who fantasize about being kept as an objectified human thing that is treated with fewer rights than an animal.

I had talked about wanting to be a slave who had nothing more in life than to spend his entire life serving a Master. Master and I lived the life. To a great extent, I had been living, more voluntarily than by his demand, as his servant. If you read my blog you will see just how we related to each other.

One of the scenarios that we played out from time to time was to kept as a object, less than a slave with no way out of the situation for what ever time he decided to keep me. He and his friends kept me bound for as long as they thought I was getting off on it. They would push my "limits" (my desire to play) then let me out.

I'd essentially given up on the idea of being an object and even got turned off to the idea once I learned of people captured by sociopathic criminals. I think that the lines between that behavior and playing out the concept as a kinky activity became blurred. I was becoming sickened by the reality of the violence in the world and wanted to step back from play long enough to sort out my feelings and somehow justify my desires and separate them from the result of violence that truly harms innocent victims.  I hadn't talk about objectification or my desire to experience for quite a while, simply because of ambiguous feelings.

You may know that it is legal to carry a weapon in public in Colorado. I'm not sure what precipitated it but Master bought everyone on the ranch a side arm and holster, expecting them to be worn at all times. I think he got off on the way it looks. I carried one too. We practiced handling them so we all knew how to use them should the need arise.

New Years Eve

Snow was falling in our area of the Mountains even though it seemed warm.  We had eaten a late meal of aged rib eye steaks and beer from one of the crafters in Denver. The eight men of the household were tipsy when we pushed away from the table. I cleaned the table and kitchen then joined the guys in a game of billiards. As we began to sober up, Master began to rough me up. He locked a heavy collar around my neck and connected by a chain behind my back to wrist irons and then to irons that were locked round my ankles. He walked my down to the dungeon with the other guys following.  The seven men raped me ass and mouth until each of them a spent inside of me at lead once. The also pissed on and inside of me both ass and mouth.

The men locked a chain to one of the ankle irons then locked the free end of the chain to a ring in the wall.  Master gagged me then they all went upstairs to uncork bottles of champagne and drank themselves to sleep.

They came down late the next day. The unchained me then restrained me on a table with leather straps where they spent the next few hours waxing every single hair from my head, face and body. Max held his side arm in my mouth and told me to keep quiet or he would blow my head off. Those were the last words that they spoke to me except to bark orders at me. They beat me with a leather strap when they finished waxing me then all took turns fucking me.

From that point on, I was an object to be used, tortured, beaten, pissed on and in, cummed in and on and even shit on. They washed me with a powerful jet of cold water from a hose when I was too stinking filthy for them to be able to stand.  I saw nothing but bright lights when they used or fed me or tortured me and jet blackness when they me left alone.

There was no way to count the days. It would have been useless anyway because I did not know how long they would keep me as a prisoner.

Boredom and fear filled my head. When I wasn't gagged I could yell and scream at them. I demanded release and threatened them. I also begged for release but they simple seemed to ignore me, treating without apparent passion, even when they tormented me. Sometimes, in my most desperate hours, I tried to hold my breath long enough to die. It never worked. I spent many hours crying all to no avail.

The men released me on April 17th after beating, torturing and fucking me.  Master held his gun to my head and told me that if I ever told anyone one they had done to me that they would bury me alive out in the wood.

I took a long hot shower in the dungeon bath.  Master stood watch over me and we talked.

In the end, life went on as it always has.  The guys were as affection as ever. I still haven't wanted to talk to them about my experience but I know why they objectified me and understand that it was a gift that they sometimes were reluctant to give.

Not Sure

I'm not in the mood to write much these days. We hired people to do the grunt work around the ranch but there is so much more to do here that I find myself outside working more. Time flies and the day is gone before I realize the sun is dropping below the mountains. It has been very warm and sunny almost every day and cool at night. It's been overcast and cool today so I decided to stay in the studio where it is warm.

We have been playing out breath control fantasies lately. I keep those activities private because playing with breath control is so fucking dangerous. Suffice to say that it is extremely satisfying when done with Master because I know that he will satisfy my wildest fantasies while keeping me safe.

To answer Anonymous: Neither of us willanswer questions from people who can't identify themselves, even with a pseudonym.

Esthetics of Bondage

It really gets my jiz boiling when I see well done bondage that shows the top as invested in learning esthetics of the art. It can be as simple a rope neatly wound around wrists or a pair of handcuffs applied correctly. Bondage does not have to be severe to be beautiful.

I had a dream about Trace last night that was based on a real incident.  We were in a leather bar. I was talking to a buddy and Trace was standing next to me. A hot looking guy stopped to talk to Trace as he walked through the crowds of men. Trace greeted him as he would a friend and tapped me on the arm to get my attention. Trace introduced us and then I turned to my buddy again. Several minutes later, I felt Trace starting to feel anxiety. As I often do. I put my hand over his mouth and turn his face into my chest, hold his nose closed, tell him to breath then release his nose, forcing him to breath deeply and slowly through his nostrils.

The dream seemed so real that I woke from it feeling disappointed that it was just a fleeting dream. I felt uneasy about him. I studied the GPS then called him. He was fine but he said that he thought of me and felt anxiety about being so far away from me.

I never, never thought that I would be this dependent on another person for so much of my happiness.

Another Trip on the Extreme Metal Bondage Table

The first thing my boy said this morning was "I'd like to take another trip on that table today".
"You like that, do ya?  Okay but you're on for the whole day if I think you're handling it but you better not disappoint me. Is there anything you think we should ad or subtract to the experience?"
He said holes for nipple play would be good and a gag would reinforce the sense of being helpless. Maybe good ear plugs would enforce the sense of isolation. He said he could hear Ray and me talking last night.

First of all, the table was designed for intense bondage and denial. That's why we chose not to have holes in it for tit play. The bare metal top is meant to feel harsh. The hole for the genitals can be handy for play but it is meant to be used for urination.

slave has been properly restrained with gag and ear plugs for a little over two hours so far. I have a monitor alongside his head so I can leave him for periods of time. I fucked him then plugged him with my jiz still in his ass. I'm thinking that I can still play with clamps on the back side of his body. Maybe I'll decide to needle him.

Another Day of Torment

This time, it is intense bondage and it's the slave's choice.

"Something really tight and extremely gagged so I can't indicate pain or pleasure. I want to feel abandoned. Something that will make me regret being bound by you." This is what he asked for. He never asks for anything in particular.

We were sitting out on the terrace around the pool near the fireplace while I enjoyed a cigar. Slave wore jeans and an old leather jacket. I cuffed his hands behind his back. I could see that he had something on his mind and I knew he was afraid to bring it up. I forced it out of him. He asked me to take him down to the punishment room. When I asked why, he said it wasn't for a real punishment but be wanted to be punished just because.

I refused and took him to the dungeon instead. I stretched him out belly down on the work table and beat his ass until he cried.
"Thank you MASTER!"

I laced him into his pin-prick leather corset. I called Chris in to steady him while I pulled the laced and locked the straps. I laced him into his pin-prick jock and then had him climb into the pin-prick body bag. Chris and I laced his pin-prick hood over his head then wound layers of PVC bondage tape over his mouth. We laced him into the body bag, pulling the laces as tight as we could get them the zip the flap over the lacings and locked it. We buckled the wide straps around him then laid him on the work table. We strapped him down on the table and then made a ruckus about leaving although I sat in the leather recliner monitoring him very closely.

Chris came in to the dungeon to give me a break. The slave lets out a whimper and moan now and then but he is handling his torture well. He's been in wraps for a little over three hours. How long he remains is up to him. I'll be able to tell when to let him out by intuition.

24 Hours of Torment So Far

It was his day to relax yesterday. He could do anything that he wanted with encumbrance or obligation. He wanted a long term bondage session! He couldn't decide what he wanted so I decided for him. "The Storage Box, Boy. out to the dungeon".

We got him rubbered up. Fist a tight cat suit then the heavy rubber bondage suit with attached hood, feet and mitts. If he pisses or messes himself it is collected in the suit. I gagged him with ball gag head harness and wrapped wide duct tape over that before zipping up the hood and locking it. I slipped his leather straight jacket over his rubber wrapped body, strapped it over him and locked the buckles. I pushed silicone tubes into his nostrils and played with his breath for a few minutes then started working him into the box. I strapped his torso against the back of the box then bent his legs up against his chest and strapped them to the sides of the box. I threaded the tubes out the holes in the top of the box and plugged them into a CPAP machine that forces air into lungs and allows him to breath out into the inside of the box. I closed the box around him leaving immobile restrained within it. The padding in the box seals against air and sound. He will heat up and sweat in the prison. A small infrared camera is attached to the inside of the box so I can visually monitor him and he has a monitor attached to his chest that will alarm me in case of stress.

He has spend many days in his storage box. He reacts different each time but he is generally relaxed. He tells me that he copes with the long hours by fantasizing and counting breaths or heart beats. I can tell that he is Zen. He quietly endures, not knowing when I will let him out.

Quick Recovery

My slave sunk into a deep regenerative sleep. His determination is admirable.

I give it permission to speak. it requested two things. it asked for a flogging with a heavy bull hide flogger and permission to have an orgasm. Both are therapeutic for it after a migraine. It helps him to relax and it opens the energy blockage from the migraine. It is the only time that it actually requests to have an orgasm.

I gagged it with a ball gag head harness and tied it to the whipping post. I flogged it until it's back was as red as the flogger itself. It gasped and moaned with each stroke. I didn't count the strokes, I kept giving it until it's energy told me it was no longer feeling it. it's eyes were red and filled with tears. I licked it's tears from it's face.

I flipped it over so that it's front side was exposed.

"Please Master."

It stopped talking, I asked it what it wanted.

"Please Master, hurt me." It was the second request to be hurt by me within 24 hours.
"Please Master, I am your object..." I stopped him by covering it's mouth with my gloved hand and pinched it's nose until it dropped off from lack of air.

I will not describe what I did to it other than to say it was the most intense torture that it has ever experienced. He passed out on me several times but I persisted. it didn't scream or cry. it looked at me in terror. It made me wank several times, each time I fed it my cum.

it took it down from the post and let it collapse at my feet. it looked up at me and said, "thank you Master". I cleaned it up and stuffed it back in it's cage to rest and heal. I didn't let it cum.