Too Extreme?

Today, when you read about “slaves”, this most times refers to people who need this denomination to turn them on. That’s totally fine for me, but it’s utterly awkward when those people are judging 24/7-relationships as either fake or “too extreme”. I mean, there is no such thing as sympathy or solidarity among people from different ranges in the BDSM-movement nowadays, and regarding the bullshit I have heard in the past years I don’t care about it anymore. People needing the label “slave” or “Master” to get hard won’t be able to understand what I mean when I talk about being owned.

For me personally being a slave to my Master can’t be anything less than a life-long devotion, because otherwise it would just be a kind of game (which might be fine for others, but not for me). To be honest, if today it would still be legal to have slaves, I’d be pleased to give my civil rights away to be fully enslaved. It would be my dream to be completely dependend from my Master, even more than I am now. It would be an honour to hand over all my rights to him, to work for him, to be used in each and every way he wanted to, to earn money for him in whatever way he decided and, finally, sacrifice my life for him. I would do that immediately.

It is not that I didn’t have a proper opinion about things or that I’m not capable of working for me and takiing the responsibility for me, it’s just that I have always dreamed about being fully owned, even being kept like lifestock with no rights. I’m most happy when I’m owned and told what to do. I love being property, being used, being trained, denied and “abused”. Why? Of course because of what my father did.

Today I want to look at what he did as an early started training and not as abuse, though I know what he did was wrong. It’s just that I can choose to lament about that forever or own it and make the best out of it. It gets me wet to think of myself as a well-trained whore, a life-long slave. And it shatters my soul to think of myself as a victim. Nobody wants to be a victim. So being a slave for a reliable Master is a very good thing.

I’m pretty aware of the fact that what I make out of this is twisted and “insane” for normal people, but let me tell you, what he put me through was insane. I consider it to be very healthy to find a way to cope with that shit. So when normal people who call themselves “slaves” just because they like to sound slutty tell me I’m too extreme, it just makes me laugh. Yeah, you know, my whole life is extreme, so why not? Most real slaves went through hell and found peace in being a slave.


Maybe Some Light At The End Of The Tunnel

For some years now I’ve been happy with the Birdlock, but this month I got my first Holy Trainer. I had several reasons for this decision. First of all, my clit has shrunk a lot in the past two years, since I wore the device for really long periods of time. Even more since I’m able to experience Sissygasms and don’t “have to” take it off to release pressure on my prostate. Second, because the Birdlock was too big now, I was able to masturbate with the device still on, which made it quite useless. Third, I had read some reports of other users about the Holy Trainer and because all of them were contented, I thought I wanted to try it as well.

The Holy Trainer comes with an integrated lock so that additional locks are unneccessary. This means you don’t have to deal with bulks from the lock anymore. For me, the more decent device is quite alright, though I don’t mind people seeing that I’m in chastity. Moreover, I liked heartshaped locks or locks made of plastic for one use only. It gave me the feeling of being owned. The material is a natural kind of resin which responds to warmth. It feels super smooth in everyday usage, but you should not squeeze it once it has gotten really warm. The best thing about the Holy Trainer is, in my opinion, that it prevents masturbating really well.

I had several Birdlocks, for example a clear one and one with spikes. Now I have a pink Holy Trainer, which gives me a new feeling. Of course it’s more feminine, but I can’t see my clit through it. And that’s really weird, like not having one. I know that sounds stupid, but not really being able to see my clit sometimes make me fear I could have lost it. And I love that! Especially because Master treats my clit like trash and keeps telling me I’d have a better life without it.

So, talking about amputation. I know very well that I don’t want to have a vagina, but it would be awesome if my clit would shrink so much that it would end up to be not more than a pea. Just like women have, I guess. I have seen ladyboys with ultrasmall clits about 1 or 2 cm, and I would totally love that, but they were on hormones since before their puberty, so I know I will never get there, so matter how much I wear devices. I could never shrink that much and would need operations for that. It would be nice to have the shaft and the balls removed and just the head left, but ways smaller than it is now.

My therapist did some research and told me that the wish to live as a male with female tits and a smooth area down there also counts as a disorder in transgender terms. Because he is no specialist in these terms, he has talked to a colleague and was able to make an appointment for me in February (yep, because I pay privately, otherwise I would have to wait until autumn). It’s quite a long trip there (2 hours by car), but on the phone he sounded nice and open-minded. I’m totally excited to talk to him, and John will come with me. My therapist told him that I suffer from PTSD due to severe abuse during more than 20 years and that it might be that I feel this way because of that, and he just answered: that maybe the case, but I have the right to speak up for myself and he is willing to listen to me. Can’t believe it. I try not to be too happy about it, because usually doctors just tell me that I should have more therapeutic sessions to get my depression, eating disorders and PTSD sorted out and take some more pills, but anyway. At the moment I can see some light. Let’s just hope that it’s not the freight train coming my way, right?

Alphas Have Needs

I can take care for most needs Alphas may have. I am a quite useful whore with two well-trained holes. I don’t need any leading time to get fucked and I can handle taking it without lube (most times I get used with spit as I’m not worth the money for lube). I love deepthroating and I’m trained in fisting. Of course I do swallow piss and cum and I lick Alphas everywhere they want. Most time of the year I’m locked in a chastity device (still reducing the size to make my useless clit shrink). I can experience Sissygasms, if I’m allowed to. My urethra is fuckable (diameter at the moment 3/8”) and I am used to catheters. You can torture my clit with clamps, ropes, wax, canes/whips, shoes, ice, ointments, hot sauce and other things.

I’m resilient and can take a lot of pain. I love being spanked, whipped, paddled and caned and I don’t mind bleeding. You can hit me wherever, even in the face, in the stomach and in the balls. You can expand my pain by using salt, lemonjuice and other substances on my wounds.

My titties are sensitive and well-trained by regular pumping. You can hit them, bite into them, use wax and other substances, clamps, ropes etc.

I’m obedient and used to both corporal and psychological abuse. I eat dirt and garbage, drink toiletwater and most other substances.

How I see myself: worthless cum rag. I’m glad to obey and serve. I’m a painslut with no pride or self-esteem. It’s a pleasure to help Alphas release their stress and anger. I crossdress and would love to have real tits and a useless micro-clit. One of my fantasies includes getting castrated. I live in a 24/7-relationship and I am owned. My Master is my world.

Limits: under 18, burns (cigars, fire, chemicals), needles, cuttings with knives (I accept cuttings by caning), scat, puke.

Likings: abuse, pain, dogging, cum, piss, diapers, Sissy, cruelty, prostitute myself for no money at all, chastity, castration, crossdressing, serving.

Depressed Whore

I’m struggling at the moment. It’s hard to keep up and just go on with life when the depression gets so bad. I know my brain doesn’t do what it is supposed to and I could help it get better with taking meds. But the meds do not only make the brain better. They have negative effects on other things, for example on my sex drive. The meds make me unhorny and they increase my appetite. But I don’t want to be a fat, unkinky whore. For my doctors it may not be a problem if I put on weight and want to fuck less, but for me it is. So I don’t take anything.

In times like these John is my rock. For him I get up, for him I get dressed, for him I eat and do my stuff. I try to be the best person I can be, even if my depression feels like carrying around stones. I don’t have his willpower, but his is enough for me as well. He keeps me on course. I can talk to him about what worries me, but he also tells me to shut up if he thinks it was enough.

Yesterday he spent some quality time with me. I had a plug up my cunt most of the day and especially at work, where I move around quite a bit, that made me horny like crazy. I had to do my tasks at home and in the late afternoon John made me hump his sofa pillow, just to let me entertain him. Of course I wasn’t allowed to cum, but my horniness distracted me from bad thoughts. In the evening he played with my ridiculous titties for a long while, clamped, waxed and spanked them, before he fucked me long and hard. Being used this way and feeling my body ache helps getting by as well. Later we cuddled on the sofa, watching a random movie on the T.V.

Today I’m plugged again, but since Christmas I haven’t had any relief. John said I should not hope for an orgasm this month.