Friday, April 20, 2018

The Hatch - another collaboration with Twisted sub

See the text on the original tumblr at:

The Hatch

My world is reduced to 4 bare concrete walls, bare concrete floor, 8 feet by 6 feet. If I stand on the tips of my toes i can touch the ceiling with my head.  A plastic bucket is the only furniture. It can be dark, pitch black or it can be blindingly light, nothing in-between. Stiflingly warm or freezing control. Absolute silence or deafening sounds of any description, screams, rock music, white noise or the Voice. And then there is the Hatch…

The Hatch is all that matters in my world. It is the only constant, it is always there, watching, waiting. I fear it but i also worship it. It can give me treats, food and drink but it can equally punish me. That happens less often now, I’ve learned how to please the hatch, how not to make it angry. I’ve learned not to make a sound, even when the hatch is closed. I’ve learned to piss and shit in the bucket until it is completely full. I’ve learned to eat everything given to me, however disgusting. The hatch is creative with its punishment, a fireman’s hose stuck through and blasting me with icy water, left shivering and shaking to drip dry. Tasers applied before I can realize what is about to happen. Gas piped through which makes me want to rip my eyes out from the pain. Hot air pumped through until I feel I’m going to boil alive. And the worst thing? It can just remain closed for days on end, depriving me, starving me, dehydrating me, the contents of the bucket the only thing sustaining me. Totally alone, isolated, in darkness, nothing. Sometimes then I just kneel before it, begging it to open, promising to do anything if it will just acknowledge my presence. 

I’ve also learned to obey the Voice, the Voice that comes from nowhere, that seems to know every move i make, that comes and goes, that i sometimes think might just be in my head.  The Voice teaches me what I’ve done wrong, tells me what i must do when i get confused, tells me what i am…tells me i am forgotten outside, i don’t exist, i am nothing, i am an object. The Hatch and the Voice my only connection to anything outside my world. 

When the bucket is completely full, the Hatch gives me pills. i like them, they make me sleep really deep, who knows for how long, time has no meaning in my world. When i wake up the bucket is empty. Sometimes I’ve been shaved, or had a piece of equipment added or removed. Piercings, tattoos, suddenly appear. The last time tight rubber mittens were locked onto my hands tightly secured around my wrists with wire meaning i couldn’t use my fingers. i have no idea why, I long ago stopped questioning why. But now i can’t feel them anymore, my hands are numb, I fear they are dying, in my nightmares i imagine them rotting away. i want to say something to the Hatch but i daren’t, the Voice has told me i don’t need hands, that they are unnecessary…for the first time in however long i get scared, realize how much I am controlled, how my life is controlled in every detail and how it could end at any moment. i start crying and right on cue the Hatch opens…I see the pills…this time i don’t want to take them…don’t want to know what will have happened when I wake up. But the Hatch is supreme, i am nothing, i have no resistance to the will of the Hatch, the Voice. I take the pills and as taught open my mouth to show they have been swallowed, it doesn’t matter, the Voice is right, the Voice and the hatch know what i need, They can give and take away, that is Their right, i am nothing, i need nothing except the Hatch and the Voice, i love Them. I realize with a flash that the walls, floor and ceiling don’t matter, i don’t matter, the Hatch and the Voice They are my Masters, they are my world and that world is limitless. 

Wednesday, April 18, 2018

The trainee learned that his vocation was for the fagot of the company.

The transport company was not large, about 40 employees, mostly women, she was the owner.
The new trainee had come of age, eighteen, from a large, poor, very poor family. 
He was not very smart or good at school. He looked a little stupid and ignorant, but he was quiet and very polite.
At first the mistress seemed to be sensitive to his condition. She listened to his stories, knew about the financial problems and the human and health dramas his family suffered. She loaned him money, put up wages, and made his debt grow.

Gradually she changed behavior, began to be intolerant of his failures or delays, she cried out at him, harsh and humiliating. He had no alternatives, he carried himself slavishly and submissively.
One day she brutaly slapped his face, and he simply accepted resignedly. That was the beginning.
She began to beat him, whip him, and humiliate him more and more cruelly.
He never reacted, defended or protested. He moaned, obeyed, and made himself available for beatings.
She ordered him to suck her, masturbate her, lick her feet, crawl at her feet. He obeyed without question, did his best.
Little by little the mistress lost the shame of beating and humiliating him in front of the other employees. The best thing is that when she forced him to lower his pants to slap his ass with his belt, his beautiful, well-sized dick was immediately hard.
The whole company concluded, by monumental erection, that he liked that treatment.
For years he was beaten and abused by some employees and his owner everywhere, any time, in front of the whole team.

Over the years he has left all trainee roles and has just become the company's pet. He served the coffee, tended the cleaning and tidying up of the tables, swept the floor, but after these tasks he sat for hours waiting for someone to call him to torture and abuse him sexually.
One of the managers became accustomed to tearing off his entire clothing and dragging the fagot by the ears to the bathroom to rape him. He would get excited by shaking and walking with the naked boy between the tables of other employees.
With the daily repetition of the scene, many were no longer paying attention to the spectacle.
Still others were trying to see if the peeled fagot was excited to be displayed this way on the way to the bathroom.

At company parties the employees would take him to the bathroom and make him suck all the dicks. They poked in his mouth and raped him.
Sometimes they told him to wipe the filthy soles of their shoes with his tongue.
They made fun of keeping him hungry and thirsty all day and then serving in a pot of dog food shit and piss, making him eat everything.

He never disobeyed, complained, never missed his job or made any gesture to prevent or defend himself from the blows.
He obeyed the cruelest of orders, accepted the most brutal beating in silence.

Certainly he knew that he was an inferior animal, that this was his function, that they should treat him this way.
One day, faced with some financial difficulties, the company had to dismiss part of the team. 
The owner of the company had to sell the faggot to a competing company.

He was never seen again, neither in the company nor in the family.

Tuesday, April 10, 2018

The constant brain washing was working.

I recently met the blog posts: Twisted sub. I loved the perversities and cruelties he describes. Many of the fantasies and situations he describes are very close to my predicament. I was very excited about many of them.

I offered to collaborate and contribute to your work.

The author asked me to illustrate one of his shorter texts.

Here follows the link of your work and the text that I have illustrated.

The constant brain washing was working.

Having lived in the sty for 6 months, vocal chords cut, covering itself in filth,  eating any leftover swill and curling up with its adopted pig family at night to keep warm whilst listening to its reconditioning tapes…this is what it now saw when the mirror was held in front of its snout. Its owner enjoyed the grunts and squeals of shock and horror as it saw what it had become.

Monday, March 12, 2018

A demonstration how a relapsed and stupid servant should be treated.

The bosses used to be very annoyed by the mistakes made by the servants. All servants in general, but especially the coachman, irritated them. 
He was poor and ignorant Polish, who could not learn their tasks quickly. Most of the employees were illiterate, nor did they understand French. So the Baron invited a specialist to teach how to discipline, command and punish the servants. 
The specialist used the same training techniques that were used with trained animals, such as dogs and horses, to command the employees, short instructions, clearly shouted, punishments for errors, rewards for correctness.
He wielded the whip with art, he knew how to make it crack in the air, and how to strike the animals 'or employees' flesh with accuracy and efficiency. For many weeks, after breakfast, he would come to the dining room, teach the family how to use the whip properly.
As they did not really support the coachman he was used for the didactic morning demonstrations.
He was tied up and naked before the family and beaten to demonstrate how a relapsed and stupid servant should be treated.

Saturday, March 3, 2018

The other pleasure of whipping a stupid animal!

It's just another version of the design posted. Less bloody, but I liked the colors. Just learning how to use the features of Photoshop.

The pleasure of whipping a stupid animal!

When you're whipping an animal, you can not forget that it's just bits of flesh, muscle and leather! Do not feel sorry, do not feel empathy or mercy. Hit with all the will and cruelty! Have a good time!

Wednesday, February 28, 2018

How much should we beat the slave? Part three.

There is no the most beautiful stage. In every moment of the beating the destroyed and injured leather of the animal is different, it has new beauty.
Realizing the beauty of opening wounds, bleeding and the darker colors of the marks, requires sensitivity and careful observation.

Take every moment of the process calmly.