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.

Late Night Extreme Torture Bondage

Tony: Thank you for your constant feed back. I wish we had more readers like you.

It seems slave and I are going opposite directions with our workouts. I am getting lean while he builds mass. It is hard for him because he runs all of his calories off. I on the other hand just started running so I burn off what I don't want to carry. Tony, our Nutritionist/Chef is making two different meal options to help us. Another thing that is hard for slave is that he prefers vegetable over protein so he has had to eat more protein and a bit more fat. His work is starting to show.

I read a short story in a book called Best Gay Bondage Erotica by Jack Fritcher called Don't Throw Me Into the Briar Patch. It reminded me or should I say "made clear" the reason and purpose for my bondage perversions. It also helped me understand my slave a little better.  We need our BDSM activities. I think we're not just addicted to it, we understand our programming, the proclivities that we are born with and nature as we grew. I understand that my slave needs it even more than I do.

Ray's Surprise For My slave:

It's a table of horrors that is made of steel with many locking accessories. Ray had slave lay face down on the table. His face fit into the front half of a steel helmet that is firmly bolted and welded to the table. There is a hole in the face for air and to insert various toys into the mouth. The back half of the hood is fitted over the back of the head and locked in place. A wide leather strap is fastened and locked across the slave's back.  Ray fits and locks steel restraints around slave's biceps that are connected by a metal rod to metal wrist restraints. There is a hole in the table through which slave's genitals are exposed for further bondage and torture. Ray inserted a nine inch plug into the slave's ass then connected a t-shaped metal strap to the table between slave's legs then brought it up and fastened the long portion of the device to the table on both sides of slave's waist. The metal strap between the slave's legs holds the plug in place.

The slave is shaking from either fear of excitement or both. Ray continues restraining him by folding his legs so the calves touch the back of the thighs. He locks them in metal ankle restraints that are connected by a short rod to the slave's wrist restrains. Leather straps around his bound legs enforce further compression. We sat back and lit cigars. We smoked and drank a cognac while watching the slave's motionless struggle.

The slave has been locked down like this for nearly five hours. He has stopped sweating. Here is a quiver in his voice but he is okay. His hands are warm. His leg muscles are soft and relaxed. He can talk because we decided to let him wallow in his situation without struggling with a gag. His genitals are untouched although his cock is constantly erect and begging to be played with but I don't want to disturb his healing Apadravya. We'll let him out soon and take him to bed but not before I take the silicon cock out of his ass and replace it with mine. I am sure Rays wants his ass too and I will let him have.

A Trip Through Legal Land

A Trip Through Legal Land

We’re heading into the fourth quarter so it’s time to gather documents from everywhere to get our finances together for taxes. We actually have people who do that sort of thing for us but we watch the watchers. Well, Master watches, being the “tycoon” that he is. Wednesday is office day and today was even more intense as Mr. Jenson and our local attorney got together to hash out the annual re-write of my Last Will and Testaments. Death planning isn’t my favorite thing today. We also worked out our contribution to the Annual Halloween Festival. We’re bringing animals to town for the petting zoo.

We lunched together over Salads of bright green romaine, heirloom tomatoes and goat cheese from the cheese lady who buys our goats milk. Tony topped the salads with beef roast that he cooked in the sous vide with salt and crushed pepper. It was intensely flavorful and tenderer than Kobe Beef that we had in Japan.

Everyone cleared out of the office by 4:30, Master fucked me and we went to soak outside in the hot tub. Giving head under water is a trip. Talk about playing with breathe control! I think the interrogators in Gitmo should employ this torture method. The hell with water boarding.