The place looks to be over a century old, shrouded in a cluster of large oak trees. Threatening dark clouds and thunder signal that another rainstorm is going to hit, so you quickly make your way up the long gravel road to the front porch. A knock on the door reveals that there is no one home. The windows are boarded up; the roof and sides of the house are riddled with neglect.
Rain begins to fall. You circle around to the back and find the entrance to a cellar. A rush of warm air strikes your face as you pull the storm doors open and quickly descend the stairs. Squinting in the darkness, you fumble with your pockets for the matches. You almost jump as a large rat scurries across the floor and disappears into another room. Outside, the heavy rain is pounding the earth, but you feel little comfort in your refuge.
Using one match, you slowly venture forth to the opposite end of the room to try the light switch. Nothing. There is a small white candle sitting on a dusty shelf, so you light it. The cellar looks to be completely empty. You wander through, what seems like an endless maze of rooms, when something catches your eye. Carved into the very foundation is a doorway that doesn’t seem to fit with the rest of the house. You approach it, holding the candle in front of you, and peer into the small passage. There is a steep, narrow stairway that spirals downward and out of sight. The ancient stone masonry gives you the impression that this was here long before the house was even built. Throwing caution to the wind, you decide to investigate and slowly descend the stairs.
Within the BDSM subculture, different people use the words “submissive” and “slave” to mean many different things. When submissives say “I want to be your slave,” sometimes they mean only that they want to be tied up and whipped. Many professional dominants routinely refer to their (usually _not_ very genuinely submissive clients) as “slaves.” At the other extreme, there are people who want to be full-time personal servants, and who truly want to exist solely for their Dom(me)’s use, pleasure and convenience. And there are many shades in between these two extremes. The following isn’t intended as a rigid classification.
1.THE OUTRIGHT NON-SUBMISSIVE MASOCHIST or KINKY SENSUALIST. Not into servitude, humiliation or giving up control; just pain and/or spiced-up sensuality, on the masochist’s own terms and for the masochist’s own direct pleasure (i.e. turned on solely/mainly by one’s own bodily sensatons rather than by being “used” to gratify one’s partner’s sadism).
2.PSEUDO-SUBMISSIVE NON-SLAVE. Not into even playing “slave,” but into other “submissive” role-playing, e.g. schoolteacher scenes, infantilism, “forced” transvestism. Usually into humiliation, but NOT into servitude, even in play. Dictates the scene to a large degree.
In this torture video slavegirl starts her day off in a little device we like to call the Head Orifice. This left her on her knees and in a rather discomforting position. Adding a large ring gag and a painful cupping set to her breasts helped flesh out girls distress and humiliation. Her breasts growing increasingly purple as the cylinders bounced around on her tits.
Master walks in behind slavegirl and grab the vaginal stimulator and stuff it into her cunt. He cranks up the electricity to it and deliver electrical current deep inside her box. He cranks it up to the point of just being unbearable and he makes sure he get that pain threshold reached right away. And then it is the riding crop. Purple marks making an appearance on her ass cheeks. Master fucks her with this giant dildo until her pussy aches. We can hear the squishy sounds from her cunt as the dildo penetrates in and out. She gets permission to cum and suddenly we see it wash over her. The smashing of the dildo into her cunt continuing as she tells us… I’m cumming!
Psychological vivisection, encasement, torture, and savage sexual eruption all these you can see in today’s gallery set. Master sneaks into girl’s room as she sleeps. He drags her to the basement, chaining her to a wall. He leaves her in darkness. Suddenly girl’s shackled onto the spiked chair with the Garrote about her neck. It’s just the beginning of a long ordeal. A terrifying array of harsh bondage devices and severe positions entrap slavegirl in a nightmare dance of ecstasy and extreme agony.
Master lowers girl’s ass onto the bed of spikes. All of her weight rests upon her ass and thighs, settling onto this spiked chair. Master designs for his sub a construct of irritation and pleasure. A thick metal collar chains her neck tightly to the sadistic chair. The metal band around her waist is more than tight. It constricts her liver, her stomach, her spleen. Metal shackles lock her ankles outward. The relentlessness of metal. The little pains accrue.
He had decided he wanted her, already knowing her for the slave she is, he called her office to set up a lunch meeting with her. Totally unaware of what he had planned for her, she agreed to the meeting. As she entered the restaurant, his eyes gleamed as he took her in, her thoughts on work, she smiled, as always respectful, ever the submissive she waits for him to order for them. His only thought is to get her out of there. While she excuses herself for the restroom, he then slips a sedative into her drink. She returns, they eat, drink and discuss his business ideas. But, he watches her knowing he has to get her out of the restaurant before the sedative starts working. He then starts to move things along, finishing, paying the check and steering her to the door. Feeling lightheaded and odd, she moves with him, as they approach the cars in the parking lot, her eyes roll back and she falls unconscious, his arms catching her deftly and with a smirk on his face. He sets her in the car and drives away.
Hours later, she awakens, she attempts to move, only to find herself chained. Her wrists crossed over her head to a ring in the ceiling, legs spread wide each ankle chained to rings on the floor. Her eyes widen as the cool air hits her naked flesh. Still groggy, and trying to focus she starts to panic, her eyes moving around the room, till they stop on him, sitting across the room from her, as if he had been watching her. He rises and slowly moves toward her the whip dangling from his hand. “Do you know where you are slut?” With a shake of her head she says softly “no.” He laughs then, a deep-throated laugh, as he reaches her his hand raises the whip, it’s five blades caressing her flesh. With a flick of his wrist it snaps with a CRACK against her bare breasts. She jumps in her chains her eyes wide, nipples suddenly erect, as a red welt rises on those soft mounds.
Strap on play and humiliation can be a hot way to explore domination and submission exchanges between a man and a woman. It’s a common myth to assume any male who enjoys strap on humiliation must be gay. Getting a man to bend over and take it in the ass from a woman is a sexy, though somewhat radical act. A man who gives up his ass to a woman is engaging in an ultimate form of submission; he has placed all control and trust into his partner’s hands. He is reduced to a hole to be penetrated and used and the resulting role reversal is quite intense and pleasurable for all involved. This form of objectification intensifies the humiliation factor tenfold.
But how about humliation by several women? Some guys have always fantasied about being strapped on by a large group of women. The feeling of shame and disgrace in that case becomes much much stronger and therefore more sexually. Let’s look at some photo fantasies with group strap on humiliation.
It had been a long week. I was looking forward to the weekend as I headed home on Friday night. We would usually go out for a meal and a drink after work on a Friday and I was heading home to take a shower and get dressed for our evening.
He was already home when I got there. I would normally meet him in town so it was a little unusual to see his car in the garage. I walked inside, called out to him, and went into the bathroom to turn the shower on. When I came back into the lounge I realised that, depending on the decision I made in the next few minutes, we wouldn’t be going out that night, or maybe for the whole weekend. Lying on the coffee table was my collar, and if I picked it up, it would mean I was his slave until he took it off me.
When the collar is out it means that I am to be used as his slut, his playground, and a body for his pleasure. Either of us can bring the collar out, but he is the only one who can take the collar off once I have it on. Sometimes he will use me for a couple of hours and at other times he will keep me as his slave for a couple of days. He is a good master of the collar and I experience great pleasure when I am his slut.
Raven opened her eyes as the pain ripped through her body. It was dim and cool where she was and smelled a bit moldy as if she was underground. Her eyes strained to adjust to the limited light. Her head was throbbing and she could feel a welt on the back of her head near her neck. She tried desperately to remember something, anything. The last thing she could remember was laughing and talking to the charming gentleman at the bar. She excused herself to go to the bathroom….then just darkness. She tried to reach her hand up to her pounding temple but as she did so she realized she couldn’t move her hands. They were tied securely behind her back. For a moment she panicked, then calmed as she understood she needed a clear mind to figure out what was going on. By now her eyes had become adjusted and she was able to make out some shapes in the room. Becoming more aware of her body, she now knew that not only her hands were tied, but also her ankles. The same length of rope was tying all parts of her body. There was a loop around her neck that ran down her back and wrapped around her hands, from there the rope went around her waist and then down her legs to wrap around her ankles. If she tried to move one part of her body, another would feel the pain of her efforts. She was laying on her side and most of her skin was exposed. Apparently her captor had decided to leave her bra and underwear on, the rest of her clothes were gone.
The Supreme Court will delve into the sadomasochism world in early 2010 as it looks into the case of a sex trafficker, known as the “S&M Svengali”, whose criminal conviction had been set aside. The justices agreed to accept the government’s appeal of a case involving Glenn Marcus, who had been sentenced to nine years in prison for the sexual abuse, physical mutilation and psychological humiliation of a woman who had agreed to be photographed as his “sex slave“. Glenn Marcus was convicted of sex trafficking in 2001. It’s a case that has potential ramifications for trafficking victims everywhere.
Marcus had a BDSM-themed website in the late 1990s which featured photos of women who were his “slaves” undergoing various levels of physical abuse. He met a woman who court documents just call “Jodi”, and she agreed to be on the website. At this point, two stories diverge. Jodi claims Marcus took the relationship too far — that he forced her to do things she didn’t want to do and then write about them for the site. She couldn’t escape, and was effectively a slave in real life, although she started out only portraying one on a website. Marcus, on the other hand, claims that everything was consensual and part of Jodi’s employment contract. Apparently, even the parts where he carved the word “slave” into her stomach with a knife, shaved her head, and whipped her brutally were part of her contract.