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The secret diary of the slavegirl once known as eulalia

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captivecuties

captivecuties

Senator
After a long time away from the routine of training a hapless bimbo or entitled student. Bored of the milfs looking for a tawdry thrill without knowing the debasement that actually awaited them, I discovered that there was a slave market here and thought to see what it had to offer.

Upon some anonymous encouragement, I sought to bid on a slender, rather attractive female slave. Knowing it to be sexually responsive upon inspection and also knowing of its refined intellect, I found it a fine candidate for purchase and for reconditioning into an abject piece of property.

As for its fate, it will loose its identity and become something else to suit my needs.

The slavegirl once known as eulalia entered the slave market to be sold come hell or high water…it got hell.
 
As many on the Forums know, this girl offered herself to be sold as a slave in the CruxForums Slave Market Game. After an exciting time on the Auction Block, she was sold following a dramatic last-moment bid to Master CaptiveCuties. In captivity, she had the silly notion of writing a 'secret diary', but of course she can keep no secrets from her Master. He soon found it, read it, and commanded her to make it public so all on the Forums can learn the fate of His slavegirl. So, girls (or boys) minded to volunteer for enslavement, please read, and tremble!


Oh eul – what have you let yourself in for?!!!

It came back to me, as he led me away, naked, and shivering from the Auction Office towards his van, gripping my arm with his left hand, I felt his right one groping my breast ...

Yes! My careless remark, just a chance comment of mine on the 'Tied up' thread, about how aroused I was by some screenshots of a naked woman being given a 'Torture Tour' (as He later called it) of a Latin American junta's jail, frightened yet fascinated by what she's seeing - that betrayed my darker, deeper masochistic secrets, that’s when Master first spotted his prey! That’s when he sniffed my blood and my female juices!

And, boy, from that moment on, was he keen to get his hands on me!

I’m still trembling, shaking all over, but I must get my head sorted ...



Dear Diary:

Sunday 22 May 2023

I offered myself this morning to be sold as a slavegirl.

I got to the Auction Block in Market Square good and early, with my statement freely offering myself up and renouncing all my human rights.

At 0730, the Auction Office opened, and Master Phlebas accepted me into His stable to sell me. He said He was only sorry He couldn’t bid for me himself – that was nice of Him!

So I undressed quickly, left my things in the charity box, won’t be needing those any more!

And then up on the Block, stark naked, wrists and ankles in irons, but free enough to move, displaying myself as I’ve long practised for this day.

And the sale started, Master P fixed my starting price at Ж50,000, a good opening price for a slavegirl.

At first, it was fairly quiet, though about a dozen customers, mostly gentlemen, took an interest in me in the first hour or two. Some of them were asking me about blow-jobs, oh yes, Sir, I was able to assure them, this girl’s been complimented on her technique!

Then about 0930, Master Jollyrei arrived. I know Him, He’s a distinguished citizen of the borough, known to keep a very elegant court and to have exquisite taste in slavegirls. I had some fantasies of dancing and singing for Him, but hardly dared to hope.

But yes! He bid for me!

But a few minutes later, another gentleman came and examined me. Not one I knew, though I’d seen him in the Slave Market when I’d gone their to watch and fantasise – I think he’s a ‘regular’. He asked me about my language skills, but also about giving sexual pleasure to women, I answered honestly that I was not lesbian, but would do my best. He seemed satisfied, I think he was wanting to share me with is wife. Anyway, he raised Master J’s bid.

But other men were eyeing me up now, and a couple of them looked seriously tough. On of them I didn’t know well, though I recognised him as a slave-owner with a reputation for harsh discipline and rigorous girl-training.

And the other was Master CaptiveCuties!

He comes up on the Block and examines me – not like the other gentlemen, who’ve been fingering me like a precious china vase, He’s hard, almost bruising, as he pulps my breasts, squeezes my nipples, watching my reactions with a stern, expert’s gaze. The ‘lower parts’, I ask Him whether front or back, He orders front first and I thrust my pelvis towards Him, legs wide, conscious of my girl-parts feeling warm and wet in anticipation. He slides His hand through my slit, invading, exploring, I sigh. Then bend over, just as brutal from behind. And of course, I have to lick His fingers ...

But He makes no bid, just says ‘Very nice. I’ll consider’. I bow my head, tell Him I’m honoured.

He leaves me trembling, cold sweating, yet cruelly aroused, my nipples throbbing, my pussy warm, clit firm and hungry for more ...

After a bit, He comes back and interrogates me about my experiences of degradation. I tell Him about my time giving ‘oral service’ in the cloakroom of an exclusive Gentlemen's Club. He seems satisfied.

Then He whispers, with chilling harshness, ‘If I owned you, your name would be simply 'cunt'. And, with a bit of luck, I'm going to get my hands on you for some torture and rape!’

I shudder. I feel tears welling, but I just lower my eyes and sob softly, ‘Thankyou, Sir!’

Then Master Jollyrei returned, He raised His bid again, I heard Him say He liked ‘a slavegirl with intelligence and spirit, and I hear she dances well under the whip’! I blush, and give a little ‘thankyou Sir’ curtsey – curtseying when I’ve got no clothes on always feels funny, Master J smiled.

A little while later, another well-respected citizen, Master Fossy, joined with a bid. It seemed He’d only just got to hear that this girl was on the Auction Block, so was eager to join in the trading. Before bidding, He came and ogled my body, walking around me, assessing, inspecting. I found that just as scary as being manhandled, this sense of my bare body being almost ‘penetrated’ by a man’s eyes.

But Master Jollyrei was still present, and he topped Master F’s. And the gentleman wanting a present for His wife is still about in the Market Square ...

But then the other brutal man came back, Master LeatherChain He’s called. And He shouts out a thunderous Ж220,000! All the crowd gasp, Master Phlebas asks Him to repeat the figure. The Market Square’s full of excitement now, my sale’s suddenly come to life.

Half an hour later, Master CaptiveCuties has evidently arranged funds, He comes back with a bid that tops LeatherChain’s, Ж250,000!
He’s standing close by me, close enough to sneer, ‘With luck you will be bought and branded soon!’ I’m too frightened to even thank Him. But I fear He’ll remember that, and punish me if He gets the chance ...

Och-oh eul, I thought to myself, looks like you've got yourself deep in the dirty stuff ...

The sale’s really hotting up now. LeatherChain comes back in with another huge leap, Ж320,000. Master CaptiveCuties locks crestfallen, He mutters, looks like you will be owned by someone else.' But I’m not sure. Strangely, in spite of all He’s done and said, that dark urge is welling up in me again, that cruel fascination mingled with cold fear ...

Surely I can’t .. be sensible, eul! Surely I’m not secretly wanting Him to win me?

I come to my senses when I see Master Jollyrei returning. He’s not going to let either of these thugs get their hands on me, He’s going to buy me, on the strength of Master Emarukk’s opinion of my singing, dancing and musical talents. He bids Ж330,000. I smile and blow Him a kiss.

It’s getting late now, no-one, not even Master LeatherChain or Master CaptiveCuties seem to be able to top Master Jollyrei’s bid. All three depart, the crowd disperses. It must be about 2200 now, Master Phlebas says He reckons Master Jollyrei has won me, and asks if I’m ready for Him to close the sale and hold me overnight for my new Owner.

I pause for a moment, of course my answer should be, ‘Yes, please, Sir!’ But it isn’t, something tells me there may be surprises, some cruel fascination urges me to keep myself available until the morning. Like a fool, I croak, ‘Can we please keep my sale open until the whole world has moved into Monday, Sir?’ He nods, shrugs - yes, that’s permitted.

So he takes me down from the Block to one of the slave-cages immediately below it. I’m locked in. A slavegirl soon brings me water and some bread, but I’m too tired to eat, I wrap myself in the dirty sack provided and fall asleep.

It’s not a comfortable night, I’m restless, getting strange dreams, in some I’m dancing in the beautiful chamber of Master Jollyrei, in others I’m being led on a horrifying Torture Tour by Master CaptiveCuties, feeling him fondling, squeezing, twisting my poor breasts ...


Monday 22nd

I wake pretty early. It’s all quiet in the Square. After a while there’s movement in the Auction Office, the slavegirl brings me fresh water and some porridge. I’m more ready for that now. Then my cage is unlocked and I go into the office, ready to be handed over to Master Jollyrei.

Master Phlebas isn’t in yet, it’s still very quiet. Then, just a couple of minutes before the deadline, 0800, I hear a loud bleep, a screen lights up, I see the dread words:

CaptiveCuties Ж350,000!

So, dear diary, that’s it for now, all that happened on this roller-coaster of emotions yesterday and this morning.

And now, I’m no longer a human, it’s a piece of meat. I'm no longer 'I' or 'me', not even a girl, 'she' or 'her' – simply 'it'. No longer 'eulalia'. 'cunt'. That’s all. And cunt is sick with dreading what’s going to happen to her today ...
 
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Monday 22nd May

My first day as a slavegirl.

Yes - as He was leading me to His van, mauling my tit as He thrust me along, that memory flooded back - the Torture Tour!

And now, this girl is heading for worse than that, much worse ...

Yet I felt a strange sense of relief, a deep calm, after the tension and swings of emotion of the slave-sale: whatever this monster's planning to do with me, I have no choice, my fate is settled, I must simply submit.

He threw me into the back of the van, slammed the door, soon the van sped off.

When we got to His place - I only got a glimpse of it, a grand villa in a high-walled, gated enclosure, seems to be out in the country - He hauled me out of the van, and pushed me towards some steps that went down below ground-level. And electric door opened, I was inside a large cellar - at once I could tell, by the threatening furniture, the whips and cruel instruments on the walls, His Torture Chamber!

He doesn't mess around, this guy, cuts straight to the chase. The way the juntas' squads used to work - suavizando, 'softening up', they called it ....

Straightaway, I'm led to the frame between two uprights in the centre of the Chamber, Master holding me and squeezing my breast again, He's beginning to enjoy the privileges of total Ownership of this soft, sweating, trembling flesh ...

Hanging this girl by rough ropes, restraining her toes with thin twine, stretches her taut, so it can’t twist and squirm about trying to dodge the lashes, can’t dance to the Whip, my muscles are stretched so they can’t absorb the blows, but have to experience the full force. It's an effectively cruel way to present a girl-body for the kiss of the Whip.

And it’s not just physical pain, breaking any will a girl might have to resist, it’s the beginning of a calculated psychological breaking.

I was more ready for the lesson than most girls are when they’re enslaved. Avoiding the first person, referring to myself as ‘this girl’, has already become automatic to me when I’ve been in Master/slave relationships,

But my new Master goes further, His slave is no longer a female, a girl, a woman – as He told me after my suavizando, ‘I find it necessary to remove those lovely descriptive to remind the slave/ captive of what it has lost. It no longer has any other identity other than what I see fit. It is a thing.’

And I‘m no longer eulalia, not even with the slavegirl’s lower-case ‘e’ – just as He promised, or threatened, when I was on the Auction Block, ‘If I get to own you, your name will be simply “cunt”’.

No need to go through it all again, it’s still too painful – and it’s all out there, the whole world can read what He did to me.

When He’d finished, He must have untied me, I came back to consciousness lying on the dirty floor. For a few moments I was confused, where am I? Then the awful truth came flooding back, I have just been purchased as a slave!

How foolish my starry-eyed, romantic dreams of dancing in some exquisite seraglio seem to me now! My body’s still burning from the whipping I’ve just received.Welts feeling like severe sunburn on all the parts I used to hold dear, the parts I used to dress to accentuate my sex appeal! My thighs and loins have a network of stripes across them,wrapping around to my burning buttocks. My back and shoulders feel as if they have been roasted. My breasts are criss-crossed with the weals, deep red with lighter pink accents - my new Owner seems to have paid special attention to these! My nipples are swollen, made more agonizing due to the fact that they must have grown erect under the painfully stimulating ministrations of my Captor ...
 
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Monday 22nd continued

But rest was not to be: a heavy door opened behind this slavegirl. To my surprise, two other women came into the room. They were naked except for leather collars and wrist and ankle cuffs, and black high heels click-clacked as they walked towards me.

Without a word, the twins gathered me up and dragged this whipped wretch into the next room.

Under a bright light, I could see what I recognised to be a wooden torture-horse. At one end, there was an upright pillar, with rings attached to the sides, one to the front, and a short piece of wood projected from it. A table was next to it with some sort of mechanical equipment, and a chair alongside.

The girls led me, breathless and trembling, across to this piece of Torture Chamber furniture. Instinctively, I knew I would be made to straddle it.. I was too weak to resist, and knew that I had no choice but to try to co-operate. They hauled me up.

When they’d got me in position, I was perched on my knees with my feet pulled up on either side, my ankle-straps linked by chains to the lower pair of rings on the upright, so that I was pressing my weight onto my knees, as well as my poor groin being forced against the narrow plank beneath my vulva.

My arms were tugged back, and chained to the upper pair of rings. This hurt, I heard myself moaning . The wooden bar projecting from the upright pushed itself into my sore back, arching my spine and thrusting my breasts upwards and outwards.

A thing was shown me by one of the girls, I soon found out it was a gag, as it was thrust into my gasping mouth and strapped tightly around my head. My head was then pulled back and my neck secured by a chain from my collar to front ring.

As I let out another moan of misery, two men entered. One was my Owner, the other, older and rough-looking, covered in tattoos, sat at the desk with the machine in front of him.

A sound started from the machine.

”C - U - N- T - 0 -1. On the top part of the right breast,” ordered Master.

”No problem” the other replied.

Soon I felt pressure on my still sore and throbbing right chest and breast, then the increasing pain of something like a needle pricking me, but multiple times like a constant biting.

”Oh God!” I realised, ”I’m being tattooed!”

The process took only a few minutes, but the pain seemed endless. When the marks had been injected into my breast-skin, Master commanded the two slaves, who'd been kneeling watching impassively, to release my wrists from the upright and lock them to a pair of rings on the beam, so I was leaning forward.

Then He commands, 'My personal monogram, on the left shoulder-blade!'

This second brand was inflicted with a single press, but with an instrument with a large number of needles. Again, my skin was sore from the whipping, again I squealed through the gag, though I was trying to suppress my cries, I know the Chinese saying, 'the bleating of the lamb only excites the tiger.'

What was being tattooed on my back I couldn't tell, I still don't know as I can't see it, but it feels like some quite ornate design.

After that operation was complete, I was released, made to stand for inspection, even more degraded, even more stripped of my human identity, no longer the slavegirl eulalia, just a piece of property marked CUNT 01. That's this girls name from now on.
 
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Loinclothslave said:
I’m curious who the other slave is, cunt, why didn’t the slave tell us about the other?

Art by Hines, apologies for poor quality

View attachment 1309456

Looks like the beginnng of a wonderful day for cunts like you, slave…
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A good question. The simple answer is I don't know - well, I know a bit more now than I did that first day (Monday) but when I wrote my secret diary that day, they were a complete mystery to me. On the other hand, volunteer slaves like you and me, loincloth, need to realise that in this world of the Forums, we're just joining countless numbers already in slavery - mostly slavegirls, but slaveboys aren't unusual. And most of the time when we've been Free we've hardly noticed them, we've taken them for granted, doing all the hard work, keeping themselves out of our way, more or less invisible. So, for example, when a slavegirl brought me food and water while I was parked in the cage below the Auction Block overnight, I assumed it was a possession of the Auction Administration.

And likewise I wasn't surprised to find that my new Owner already has other slaves, but I didn't know anything about them at that time - and had more frightening matters to worry about!

Good picture, but you might have misunderstood - I was the only cunt being whipped. Although I'm using personal pronouns in this 'secret diary', they're otherwise strictly forbidden by my Owner. This girl is well used to being this girl, and calling herself 'she/ her', but it's still getting used to being cunt and calling itself 'it' - and sometimes gets confused when writing the diary!
 
Monday 22 May continued

When He’d finished, He untied me, made me kneel in front of Him and tell in my own words how I was collared and handcuffed as soon as He’d paid for me. And then He ordered me to make it public on the Forum!

I felt sick with the humiliation, all those folk out there who know me, all the whole world, will know – the slavegirl formerly known as ‘eulalia’ is now simply ‘cunt’. Yes, degradation like this is a integral part of becoming a true slave ...

‘Yes, Sir,’ I bowed my head, I could feel my cheeks burning, tears welling as I choked my sobbing to say, ‘This will be a humiliating task, Sir, as all the world will know that it is no longer eulalia but simply cunt.’

‘Submission and obedience is its own reward…humiliation is my pleasure.’

I put my memories of my first few moments as a slavegirl into words as best I could.

He commented, ‘The cunt has done well, but remember - it has been sold to a sadist!’

I don’t think I’m going to get the chance to forget!

But I replied submissively, ‘Yes, Sir. it's an honour to be bought by such a Sadisto Supremo! ‘

He laughed, and continued, ‘I’m looking forward to having ownership of it. It’s intelligence is not wasted on me. I see that as an advantage in its debasement.’

But then He noticed I’d made a slip, my first fault as a slavgirl – this cunt had carelessly used the forbidden word ‘she’!

‘Nipple clamps for the cunt!’

I had to go and fetch a box, clearly marked ‘NIPPLE CLAMPS’ from a shelf at the side of the Chamber, then kneel, saying ‘This piece of meat must learn to do better than that - it thanks its Master for the correction and offers up its breasts for the clamps.’

They hurt, of course, they’re meant to. Yet they’re a good torture, somehow the biting on my teats stimulates my female body, a warm rush of oestrogen accompanies the pain as it surges through my body from my still burning, whip-wealed breasts to my girl-parts, stimulating my juices, triggering my clitoris ...

He left me for a little time, perhaps a quarter of an hour, then returned and pulled off the clamps, I winced and let out a squeal. He chuckled, ‘I enjoy owning and hurting you!’

After that, I was put in a cage in a corner of the Torture Chamber for the night, a slavegirl brought bread and water, just like last night. I wrapped the sacking around my still sore and throbbing bod, and dozed off thinking, ‘Yes, He enjoys hurting me.’

And then, I heard myself whisper, ‘This cunt is enjoying being owned - and yes, hurt and humiliated - by a true sadist!’
 
Tu 23 May


I was woken very early, I think, it’s hard to have any idea of time. A man, no doubt one of Master’s hired thugs, hauled me out from my cell and took me to a small room where I had to watch a video – three times it was played through, to make sure I took everything in: the brute stayed behind me all the time, making sure I didn’t look away, noting my reactions – yes, even feeling my cunt to check my wetness!

It was an old, grainy film, maybe filmed secretly, or – perhaps more likely – made to show to captives to frighten them, just as I was being made to watch it. If that was the idea, it certainly worked – or, rather, it both frightened and excited me.

It was filmed inside some Latin American secret jail, and showed in graphic detail how a wide-eyed, screaming, writhing woman was tortured, step by step, broken and reduced to a sobbing wreck. The tortures were shown in close-up, climaxing in agonisingly cruel treatment of her breasts and nipples, and even more excruciating torture of her cunt. By the time she finally lost consciousness, blood was oozing down her trunk and her legs, forming a pool on the tiled floor.

I squirmed, wriggled as the torture, and the girl’s cries, climaxed – and, yes! So did I. And the Guard laughed as he witness the proof.

After that, I was taken back to my cell, and lay there sweating, unable to get the awful, thrilling images out my mind, or out of my body imagining itself undergoing such hideous cruelty.

A slavegirl brought breakfast – she’s obviously not allowed to speak to me or even look at me, just pushes the metal tumbler and bowl through the cage-bars and scuttles away. Then the Guard came and marched me up to Master’s office.

I knelt in obeisance before He ordered me to kneel up, then just asked,

‘Well?’

I knew what He meant.

‘The video is a foretaste of what You are going to do to this cunt, Sir?’ I asked.

‘What does cunt think?’

‘It frightens and excites it. When it gave itself up to be enslaved, it never dreamt it would be made to experience such ordeals, to suffer in such hideous ways. But the cunt made the choice, it freely and voluntarily - and irrevocably - surrendered its humans rights, even its right to be a human. it is going to get what it let itself in for, there's no turning back for it now ... ‘

‘And?’

I paused, He was staring at me coldly, with a gaze of chilling cruelty. I knew what He wanted, I had to force myself to say it, then it all spilled out in a rush,

‘So, yes Sir ... please do all of the things to this cunt that is done to that piece of female flesh in the video (yes, Sir, even torture it with the spiked dildo in its cunt!) ... But give it time, take it slowly, torture by torture. There's no hurry, You've got this cunt in Your possession now, You can take as long as You like breaking its spirit - and it will suffer all the more dreading what it knows is coming.’

He smiled.

‘We are thinking alike it seems.’

He paused, his expression seemed to become sadder, for a moment even wistful, though it soon darkened again. He stood up, looked at me kneeling naked, then spoke,

'When I was younger, I didn’t like the idea of drawing blood, but the wide-eyed suffering and sensual writings of the whore in that video started to work on me. First it was the needles. Into the tits, nipples and pussy, especially through the nipple, straight into it or at its base where in meets the areole. At first, my reactions were adverse, then I became slowly aroused at the idea, and at the agony it must produce - and then to fuck the slave, hung up that way ... .stirred something in me ...’

I just bowed my head, surprised, even strangely touched, by His honesty. But of course, I understood that it implied for me. Looking at me lustfully again, He continued,

‘So yes, it will be a slow, breaking, humiliating and torturous existence for the cunt. I will enjoy putting it through the physical and psychological horrors ahead. It will serve and suffer, possibly not even allowed any pleasures whatsoever.’

I sobbed, but whispered hoarsely, ‘Suffering will be its pleasure, Sir.’

Then, as He remained silent, seemingly expecting more from me, I looked up at Him and added,

‘Sir, this cunt thinks women are less troubled by blood, bleeding is an integral part of being a cunt, of course. So please don't hesitate to draw blood from this piece of meat, Sir - You hunted it with such determination, You've caught Your prey, Master - enjoy it!’

‘This pleases the cunt’s Master.’

(Dear diary – that was only how the day began – maybe I’ll write more later, but that strange interview left me with a much deeper sense of my situation, a deeper understanding of my Master. Far from reassuring, indeed frightening in what it implied for my future, but it’s formed a kind of bond, a relationship, between this girl and the Gentleman who’s bought her)
 
Tu 23 May continued

So next this girl is introduced to the uniform she's got to wear!

'It will from now on, wear a black garter belt, hose and high heeled stilletos with ankle cuffs and padlocks built into then.

A black shelf bra with exposed nipples, leather wrist cuffs for quick fastening.

Long eyelashes, minimum makeup but red lipstick.

It will kneel in its Master’s presence, back straight, ass on heels and legs together.'

Hm. Well, BDSM fancy dress hasn't ever been a big turn-on for this girl, but a slave has to accept whatever.

I've got nice long eyelashes, they're my best feature, don't need artificial ones. And minimal make-up suits me too, I've got pretty good skin, a bit pale complexion, but that's probably right for a slavegirl. Lipstick - I don't go for very bright red, but if that's what Master wants ...

So, slide on the garter-belt and the stockings ... not so keen on the stockings, I like to keep my legs bare - but the belt feels quite sensuous.

The bondage boots are quite stylish, actually, I noticed them on those other girls and thought, well, if I have to wear anything on my feet, those would probably suit me. Being a country lass, I very seldom wear heels, never as tall and slim as those. It'll take me a little while getting used to them.

But slipping my feet into them and prancing around on my tiptoes in a kinky costume reminds me of ballet lessons - which I loved for some years, and did quite well in, but took a turn against them in my mid-teens. Yes, back to the harsh discipline in ill-concealed sexual sadism of those dancing lessons! (Though of course I'd no idea at the time what was going on in the mind of the mistress, not to mention the men who got to watch us girls)

And walking on high heels does make a girl keep her back straight, butt and breasts lifted, hips swinging nicely ...

As for the bra - well, that certainly makes sure I display them to best advantage! I glance down at the brand-mark - CUNT 01 - yep, that's me, mustn't forget it!

Oh, and the rule about kneeling - okay, that's a bit different from the open-thighs posture I've been trained to do, but no problem ... but I wonder whether He requires lips (my red-lipsticked ones!) to be kept parted at all times. He hasn't mentioned that, but I expect so. Anyway, it's what this girl's trained to do, if He isn't pleased, she'll no doubt learn the hard way!
 
Eulalia said:
I sobbed, but whispered hoarsely, ‘Suffering will be its pleasure, Sir.’
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The greatest gift a slave offers it’s Master is it’s sweet suffering in servitude to His divine cruelty. It is a captivatingly and utterly enslaving moment that a true slave relishes as it discovers the oblivion of abject surrender solely to HIS WILL
Eulalia said:
if He isn't pleased, she'll no doubt learn the hard way!
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And, like a proper soul slave such as cunt, it secretly desires ONLY to be taught the HARD way. Because by facing such punishment it is given leave to truly suffer, a gift slave offers freely and in abundance. it’s screams will be outpourings of it’s love of slavery and Master…
 
Loinclothslave said:
The greatest gift a slave offers it’s Master is it’s sweet suffering in servitude to His divine cruelty. It is a captivatingly and utterly enslaving moment that a true slave relishes as it discovers the oblivion of abject surrender solely to HIS WILL

And, like a proper soul slave such as cunt, it secretly desires ONLY to be taught the HARD way. Because by facing such punishment it is given leave to truly suffer, a gift slave offers freely and in abundance. it’s screams will be outpourings of it’s love of slavery and Master…
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Well said. It will be a harder journey for the cunt from hear on in.
 
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Tu 23

The rest of my second day as a slave was mercifully free of physical pain, though I learnt a lot about the life I have to expect. On the positive side, I think Master is at least reasonably pleased with His expensive purchase, pleased that this cunt has a good understanding not just of the superficial, performative parts of being a slavegirl – ‘postures and pronouns’ is what I call them - but of the much more fundamental, psychological discipline entailed in total, instant and unquestioning obedience, and complete, abject self-humiliation.

But yet, the full horror of what I’ve brought upon myself by my starry-eyed, romantic vision of slavehood is only beginning to sink in ...

In the evening, I was summoned to another interview with Master, kneeling before Him as required.

‘So, does CUNT 01 remember what I promised it on the Auction Block?’

Does it remember? How could it forget the chill of dread it felt!

‘Yes, Sir, this cunt remembers Master’s words, “with a bit of luck, I'm going to get my hands on you for some torture and rape!”’

‘You do well to remember my words, cunt. What used to be slave “eulalia” will sink out of sight, and a feral animal cunt will be conditioned and forced to perform acts of depravity it thought impossible before.

Torture and rape will be its conditioning. I look forward to hearing my cunt scream, the unique sound my victims make only when they’re suffering. Its terror, dread and desire will harden its Master’s cock, making it ready for use on the hapless cunt.

It will be a slow, breaking, humiliation and torturous existence for the cunt. I will enjoy putting it through the physical and psychological horrors ahead.’

He paused, standing over me, looking down with steely eyes, relishing my quivering.

‘It will serve and suffer.’

I kept my head bowed, eyes to the floor, humbly acknowledging my fate.

‘It will suffer ... always.’

I’ve been preparing myself for this since the moment I knew He had won me. So now I lift my eys and simply say,

‘Yes, Sir. the cunt is a primitive animal, it offered itself to be “chased” in the slave market, it's been captured by the Alpha Male, and now it’s ready for Him to do His will with it ...’

‘And so?’

I paused, then croaked, hesitantly,

‘Your cunt-slave ... begs .... begs to be tortured ... and raped, Master!'

‘Well said, cunt. So be it, and your girl meat is mine!.’

With a kick in my side, He signalled for me to leave,

‘Sweet nightmares, slave-cunt!’


W 24

After a restless, sweaty night, I wake up to hear these cold words still in my ears, my whole woman-flesh is gripped with a fierce tremor of dread and desire.

Master has instructed, ‘Keeping its body fit is a paramount order. It needs to keep itself attractive and healthy for use.’ So I begin my daily practice of yoga and slavegirl postures to prepare my girl-meat for Master's ministrations.

At times, I know I shall be contorted and restrained in such ways to cause me pain, while I’m serving merely as decoration. Maybe I shall actually have the opportunity to dance for Master – though I expect He’ll direct me with a whip as I do!
 
So, His 'girl-meat' is ready ...

‘cunt is just a lowly piece of rape-meat. But it is attractive to its Master - and He likes hurting pretty things. The break-in belongs to the one who owns cunt, that pleasure will be Mine!’

‘Of course, Sir - the first taste of the girl-flesh belongs to the Huntsman who captured it!’

He grabs me by my hair and pulls me up sharply. I teeter at first, but quickly regain my balance on the high heels, from years of experience and practice.

I see a fine ring glinting on Master’s middle finger as I ready myself for the inevitable. It’s bright gold and set with precious stones, sharp stones, cut to cruel spikes .... I wince as I anticipate its coruscating effect when He thrusts it into me ....

”Turn around!” He orders.

I quickly obey, quivering in fear. Master locks the wrist-cuffs behind my back.

I’m trembling now as His arm forced its way between my back and forearms, pinning them against Himself as he pulls His property close. Yanking my head back violently, causing me to gasp in shock and pain, He grabs a nipple, twists and pulls on it…

Then He slides His finger into my slit, instinctively my sex-lips envelop and enwrap His finger eagerly.There is a moment of ecstasy, then I feel the sharp stones tearing into me with the twist of His hand. The sound of my cry echoing off the walls only encourages Master‘s cruelty. He keeps up the torment, twisting and thrusting while His victim squirms helplessly against His body.

At last, He withdraws the finger, and lets me drop to my knees, sobbing, blood dripping between my thighs. He watches for a while, savouring His sadism.

My hair grabbed again, I’m hauled up, dragged roughly across to the door on the far side of the room. The click-clack and scuffing shuffles of the shoes echo as my arms involuntarily swing out trying to assist me in keeping my balance. I guess what’s behind the door: His private Torture Chamber!

Through the door and hauled across the Chamber, a large table like device awaits my horrified gaze. Again, I’m tugged up and pulled back close to Him , His hand finding my sex-slit, exploring fingers caressing and rubbing it,

“When women experience sexual assault and rape, they sometimes get wet from it,” He comments in my ear, his manner matter-of-fact.

Getting stickier, His ferreting fingers find my clit, I jolt a little and feel my knees weaken… with a little squeal of ecstasy mingled with fear I regain my balance.

”This is a natural biological reaction going back to our primitive beginning, a natural survival mechanism. He points to the piece of furniture in the centre of the Chamber,

‘This is the rape-rack. The cunt knows it will be raped. The cunt wants to be raped. Beg again!” He orders, still torturing my tit.

”P…Please, Master…this cunt begs the be raped!”

”Say it again, differently,” With another nipple twist, I’m pulled up so I’m perched ‘en pointe’ in the shoes.

”This cunt begs for rape, pleeeeaase!”

”One more time, cunt!”

Sweetly I say, ”Please, Master… please rape your slave-cunt!”

Soon I’m strapped down, legs spread and delicate body stretched taut.

Nipples hard, sex wet.
 
Eulalia said:
Tu 23

The rest of my second day as a slave was mercifully free of physical pain, though I learnt a lot about the life I have to expect. On the positive side, I think Master is at least reasonably pleased with His expensive purchase, pleased that this cunt has a good understanding not just of the superficial, performative parts of being a slavegirl – ‘postures and pronouns’ is what I call them - but of the much more fundamental, psychological discipline entailed in total, instant and unquestioning obedience, and complete, abject self-humiliation.

But yet, the full horror of what I’ve brought upon myself by my starry-eyed, romantic vision of slavehood is only beginning to sink in ...

In the evening, I was summoned to another interview with Master, kneeling before Him as required.

‘So, does CUNT 01 remember what I promised it on the Auction Block?’

Does it remember? How could it forget the chill of dread it felt!

‘Yes, Sir, this cunt remembers Master’s words, “with a bit of luck, I'm going to get my hands on you for some torture and rape!”’

‘You do well to remember my words, cunt. What used to be slave “eulalia” will sink out of sight, and a feral animal cunt will be conditioned and forced to perform acts of depravity it thought impossible before.

Torture and rape will be its conditioning. I look forward to hearing my cunt scream, the unique sound my victims make only when they’re suffering. Its terror, dread and desire will harden its Master’s cock, making it ready for use on the hapless cunt.

It will be a slow, breaking, humiliation and torturous existence for the cunt. I will enjoy putting it through the physical and psychological horrors ahead.’

He paused, standing over me, looking down with steely eyes, relishing my quivering.

‘It will serve and suffer.’

I kept my head bowed, eyes to the floor, humbly acknowledging my fate.

‘It will suffer ... always.’

I’ve been preparing myself for this since the moment I knew He had won me. So now I lift my eys and simply say,

‘Yes, Sir. the cunt is a primitive animal, it offered itself to be “chased” in the slave market, it's been captured by the Alpha Male, and now it’s ready for Him to do His will with it ...’

‘And so?’

I paused, then croaked, hesitantly,

‘Your cunt-slave ... begs .... begs to be tortured ... and raped, Master!'

‘Well said, cunt. So be it, and your girl meat is mine!.’

With a kick in my side, He signalled for me to leave,

‘Sweet nightmares, slave-cunt!’


W 24

After a restless, sweaty night, I wake up to hear these cold words still in my ears, my whole woman-flesh is gripped with a fierce tremor of dread and desire.

Master has instructed, ‘Keeping its body fit is a paramount order. It needs to keep itself attractive and healthy for use.’ So I begin my daily practice of yoga and slavegirl postures to prepare my girl-meat for Master's ministrations.

At times, I know I shall be contorted and restrained in such ways to cause me pain, while I’m serving merely as decoration. Maybe I shall actually have the opportunity to dance for Master – though I expect He’ll direct me with a whip as I do!
Click to expand...
CUNT 01 was soon taken down into the bowels of the Manor, deep below where the atmosphere changed.
Dungeon like and stone floored, lit by torches in mock medieval decor.
Taken by the arm by an assistant slave-girl with cuffs attached behind it’s back, the cunt reaches the end of one of the halls. A heavy wooden door opens. Above it simplify says Rape Room.
Inside, cunt is places on a short block style tale with two angled pipes on either side.
it is strapped brown, around the forehea, ath the waist, arms past it’s head and out to the sides.
legs are cuffed to the pipes in a rude gynecological fashion.
First, it has it’s pussy shaved bare, then vacume pumps are applied to slit and tits.
The pumps suck and engorge the girl meat to swollen satisfaction.
When the pumps are removed, the cunt is pussy whipped over 100 times until raw and red.
Despite the pain from the flagellation, cunt’s clit has engorged and it’s slit turns slick.
A medium piercing needle is passed through the clit.
The cunt nearly launches off of the block from the searing agony but is held firm by the straps. It’s mournful wails are delicious as they echo off of the stone walls.

An enema is given, the expelled mess collected in a glass bowl and taken away.

CUNT 01 is unstrapped, stripped naked and put into metal a bar that connect its ankles together, hands are also connected to the same causing cunt to bend over.
Alligator clips are attached to engorged nipples.
It is then placed onto the floor, face down ass up.
Master arrives to shove His hardened cock int cunt’s now gushing slit.
CUNT 01 swallows Him into it’s hole and wraps around the shaft in natural reaction.
Upon each inward thrust, the cunt is required to say “Thank You, Master”
It’s nipple clamps rub against ith floor as cunt is pushed back and forth from the fucking motion.
When Master is complete with the first hole, He then proceeds to the ass, fucking it had and deep as cunt convulses on the floor.
When Mater withdraws, an anal plug with hot sauce is inserted into CUNT 01’s greedy little ass.
Satiated with brutalizing it’s hind quarters, cunt ps pulled up by the hair and must finish off Master with it’s mouth.
Upon ejaculating, Master withdraws to spill it on cunt’s face and the floor.
The cunt is ordered to lick up the mess while Master whips it’s ass until sore and welted.
A sold with similar hot sauce is inserted into a still wet slit.
It will then Thank it’s Master before being gagged and left for a while
 
W 24 cont.

I'm lying on the rape rack, spent and sore, panting as if I'd just run a marathon, my voice hoarse from screaming, my head flopping to one side.
Arms and legs strained from the stretching, trembling under the tightness.
Bruised, beaten, my sex brutalized, red-raw from the torture with His spiked ring, and then ... then His cock crashing into me.

”What does the cunt have to say? “ is the question.
I'm starting to cry but trying to hide it.
In a hoarse, humbled, surrendered voice, “Thank You, Master,” is my reply.

Master has left me on the rack… it don't know for how long. At least Master’s cock was of normal, pleasurable proportions, even though the clamped clit and savaging of it’s sex hole hurt for a while. At least my cervix would be safe…for now? I shudder in horror at the question.

Almost dropping off from exhaustion , movement rekindles me back to consciou.
I raise my head to see Master leading another girl - slave, captive, whatever the wretched thing was - into the rape room.
It's blonde, petite and buxom. Bruises and welts adorn its dirty body. It's got a strap-on cock belted around its waist, high heels adorning small feet, arching them almost impossibly high. A single sleeve restrains its arms behind.
A red ball gag sits perfectly between red lips, drool cascading down onto cum-covered, whip welted tits, the right one tattooed like mine, RAPE SLAVE 02.

Master positions it between my thighs..
”Rape-slave... this is cunt!”

My breathing starts to grow rapid again, I shake my head, my dark brown hair waving about. I gasp to say 'No!' but dare not. I can guess what's in store for me next.
”Rape it!” was the command.

The strap-on phallus was long.

I'm starting to cry…I see Master growing hard again ...
 
Master is angry as I didn’t mention His spiked cock-ring. Sorry, Sir. Yes, He wears a cock-ring with little spikes on it. No, it doesn’t add to the pleasure, certainly not when a girl’s as sore as I was by then. But of course it’s what a masochistic pain-slut must expect. And it’s humiliating – that’s why He commands cunt to put it in its diary. So, the slave kneels to accept its degradation.


W 24 continued

I was finally dragged to my cell, lying there in the blackness, coming to terms with the day’s devastating experience.

‘slave-girl’ It’s funny that I always thought it sounded cute, sexy - and something I wanted to be.

But now I’ve had the whipping, the branding, the rape – and worse!

I’m CUNT 01 cunt now.

Hours drag on, the only comfort I’ve got is a thin mattress on the floor. And my collar’s linked to the wall by a chain. I can hardly sleep, constantly shifting about with one pain or another ...

How many hours….left with my own thoughts, dreams, nightmares ...


Th 25

But, strange to tell, since I was sold to Him, I’ve woken early each morning eager, lusting to learn what Sir has planned for me!

so now I’m kneeling here, naked of course, frigging like a whore ... well, like it did when it it began imagining itself as St. Eulalia, being racked and tortured ...

This little slut knows it is cursed with intelligence, for a girl to be intelligent is like a red rag to the male Bull - and provokes vicious jealousy among the whores too - so humiliation, degradation has been familiar from a young age.

But I’m a natural slavegirl, happy to serve, to obey and to be a help ... with an intuitive feel for the characters of the males who take in interest in me – a Gentleman, I thought, when He started manouevring to make sure He’d buy me - but a cruel Sadist too behind the mask ...

yes, I did humbly, subtly, attract Sir's attention in the Market, to the fact I was offering myself, exposed naked, for sale. Mind, I was only being myself, the natural slavegirl, eager to help - in truth, I tried to attract other Gentlemen too, I would not withhold myself from any Free Person I could please ...

But, yes, I cannot deny I was experiencing dark, driving desire to be owned by a true Sadist, a Dom who'd 'need no other reason to use, abuse and hurt it. So, this vile worm writhed and squirmed on the hook, bait to attract the Master who it sensed would dominate the cunt with sadistic glee.

And now I’ve been suavizada 'softened up'. My face. my breasts and my thighs bear livid weals, my neck is bruised by the collar, my right breast bears my brand-mark CUNT 01, and there’s a hideous wound beneath my left breast bearing witness to the whiplash. ..

Yet His victim is facing its next ordeal with a mixture of fear and fascination, wearing its wounds with a kind of pride ... what will He do to me today?

So now, Sir, Your piece of quivering flesh lays itself bare, begs You to penetrate it again and again - not just its flesh, but deep inside its soul - seek out its secrets, use its own thoughts to torture and torment it, as it knows You will, with merciless Mastery!
 
Th 25 cont

Today turned out to be another round of quite vigorous exercise. As soon as Master came for me, I could see His cock was up, I only need to proclaim my slovenly status and show my humiliation to get Him aroused!

Knowing how curious I am about what horrors await me, grabbing my sex, and finding it wet to the point of almost running down my bruised, trembling thighs, Master shoved me brutally across the Torture Chamber to the sharp-edged wooden pony I’d spotted when I was first down there. Aside from its merciless edge, the pony also has a studded iron dildo rising up from its centre, long, thick…cruel looking.

My hands were tied back roughly into reverse prayer bondage, then He pushed me down to kneel on the dirty floor , facing the instrument of sexual pain. He grabbed me by my hair, yanks it, and orders, ”Now cunt…beg for torture!”

I took a deep breath and tried, ‘This loathsome mess of rotting flesh begs for the most sadistic tortures its mighty Master can inflict, it expects and deserves only His cold, hard, systematic cruelty!’

He smiled. ‘Again!’

How about this, I thought, ‘each part of CUNT 01's vile body is crying out for pain, Sir. In the video You deigned to show it, Sir, the Torturer was remorselessly brutal, that is the kind of treatment this worthless walking cunt needs and deserves. CUNT O1 yields up its quivering flesh begging to suffer!’

That evidently satisfied Him. A couple of other slavegirls had arrived, they had the job of mounting me on the iron prick on the pony, tugging me down to the wicked edge of the upturned plank. I opened my mouth, but managed not to scream. My ankles were bound tight and tied to rings bolted on the floor. I was gasping, struggling in vain to adjust to the searing discomfort. Finally a loop of rough rope was fitted under my chin and tugged up by a pulley so I was forced to stay upright, immobile.

He spat at me, laughed and pleasured Himself while watching my suffering. After that, the two slavegirls were made to perform. One was a fresh-looking, still clean, frightened flaxen blonde, evidently a new acquisition, but already loaded with a heavy iron collar, her arms pulled up behind and locked to the back of the collar, her ankles shackled with chains too; the other an older whore, medium built, curvy, with hair in a pony tail, a large ring gag in its mouth, hands cuffed to a restrictive belt that crushes its midriff. It had a tattoo on the same place as mine, top of right breast: it said TOILET. Which was the service it had to provide for Master, and after that the other wretch had to clean his cock with its mouth, shivering, making its chains jingle.

And, after that, He left me, riding the pony of pain ...
 
Well, the session on the Pony was certainly a tough test. Master's got all the torture equipment a masochist like me could dream of, and He's putting me through it pretty ruthlessly. That's good, that's what this piece of flesh was expecting, even secretly hoping for. I'm tired now, naturally, and sore and hurting in all sorts of places, some of them very private places!

Yet I'm not breaking, not regretting for a moment my decision to offer myself for sale. I had no idea who'd buy me, what sort of Owner would win me, but I'm glad I attracted such a lusty sadist. And I didn't choose the name Eulalia for nothing - the spunky, impudent girl-martyr, making cheeky remarks to her Torturers ....

So after I'm taken off the Pony, and had a little time to recover, when He comes in to see how His property is, I try a bit of gentle teasing:

'Thank You, Sir.'

He looks a little surprised at my enthusiasm, picking up that I really mean it, 'Thank You, Sir!'
I risk a little bit of impertinence:

'Sir, very humbly, CUNT 01 admits it has been studying its new Master, and has been thinking He is surprisingly gentle, often praising it and treating it, if not as a human, at least as a pet animal.'

He looks even more surprised.

'Isn't cold cruelty is what a slave-cunt requires, Sir? If it's not actually being punished, that is as much as it can hope for moment by moment ...'

He frowns, looking a bit discombobulated, then switches into Masterly mode:

'I have not heard cunt beg for torture as of yet.
Do so, and be vile.'

Okay, a challenge .... I pause a moment, get myself into a properly grovelling posture, then declare,

'This loathsome mess of rotting flesh begs for the most sadistic tortures its mighty Master can inflict, it expects and deserves only His cold, hard, systematic cruelty!'

'Again.'

That's good, I enjoy having my verbal creativity tested ...

'Each part of CUNT 01's vile body is crying out for pain, Sir. In the video You deigned to show it, Sir, the Torturer was remorselessly brutal, that is the kind of treatment this worthless walking cunt needs and deserves. CUNT O1 yields up its quivering flesh begging to suffer!'

His response is to reel off a catalogue of atrocities He's proposing to inflict on me, and He quite possibly will -

'cunt will be secured to a torture post with barbed wire, wrapping around all of its softest places. A garrote strap will keep the stupid cunt at attention. I will then stick a needle through each nipple after making it erect if it is not already. cunt will be slowly choked alternately as it thanks its Master between throat compressions. it will call itself a worthless cunt. More needles will stick into cunt’s tender tits, at the nipple base and then into the side breast.

later it is released from the wire, brine is thrown onto its pricked and bleeding body. its slave collar will be chained high so it may dance in pain for its Master. Hands cuffed behind, needles still in its pathetic tits, it is encouraged with a whip on welted thighs to dance as best it can in the chains.'

Naturally His slavegirl responds,

'CUNT 01 grovels to thank its Master!'

His imagination jumps into overdrive:

'cunt will also be gagged with panties that have been shoved up its snatch and made to cum from clit stimulation several times, the panties will be pulled out and cunt with service its Master until He cums as well. cunt will collect its Master’ ejaculate on the same panties and then stuff them into its cock sucking mouth and look up sweetly, eyes begging for the strap to secure the gag deep and tight. Master pisses on cunt’s grovelling body.'

I grin at this last thought, and egg him on,

'CUNT 01 licks itself like a cat.'

'cunt will be kept that way for a few days…pissed on and ejaculated on knowing that it stinks. It will be kept in a low, cramped cell, not able to stand in, on the hard, dirty stone floor with only some shards of hay under it, in steel branks on its ankles and wrists behind.
A bowl of its own piss will be the only thing it is allowed to lap up with its tongue after a day or two of starvation.'

I chuckle with glee,

'That's more like it, Sir!'

'Cunt pleases Me.'

(Yes, well, of course I'm glad I do - that's what being a slavegirl is all about - but He shouldn't keep telling me so, I'll only get cocky and complacent!)

He growls,

'More needles and the spiked dildo soon.
And get used to the piss CUNT!'

I put on a dramatic look of horror ...

'That's the way this cunt was expecting to be when it was bought into slavery by You, Master - terrified!'

'Master’s favourite look on slaves, whores and cunts!'
 
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