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Humiliated

Author: kaya

Filed in: punishment, discipline, humiliation, objectification



She walked just behind Him through the store, always just a half inch from stepping on His heel. She tried to be mindful of His step, His movements. Sudden stops and turns either sent her crashing into His ass or scrambling to keep up. She thought of it as just another duty of hers, to be aware of His actions... to be aware of Him. After all, keeping Him at the very front of her mind was a sign of a good slave.

She kept one finger looped through His belt loop almost all the time. To passers-by it looked simply to be an affectionate way to keep in contact, but it was so much more than that to them. She felt tethered.. she felt leashed.. she felt confined and controlled... and she liked it. Being bound to Him in other ways wasn't practical in public and making it her responsibility to keep her finger on Him all the time made her so much more aware of her place in His life.

He, in turn, tried to be a bit slower in His movements in order to make her following so closely seem not like a chore but as a reward. And it was, for He desired her company enough to want her close by. When she was less than pleasing, removing her from His presence was debilitating to her, it struck her very soul to think He couldn't stand to look at her or talk with her. So, He did His part to keep her near and to keep it pleasant. Which is not to say that He didn't occasionally speed up or turn fast, if only for the amusement of watching her struggle. He was a sadist afterall. Besides, making her work hard at it on occasion kept her appreciative of the times He slowed for her.

He enjoys that she is within earshot all the time, He likes that He can reach and touch her at any time, He likes that she does nothing at all without His approval and consent. When she wants to stop to look at something, she tugs very gently at His belt loop and He will either stop and spoil her by letting her pause.. or ignore the tug, with no words of complaint tolerated, and keep walking. Cementing to her that it's never about what she wants... or if it is.. it's a gift. And one that had better be appreciated.

And it's not like she had any reason to wander off. Any purchase that she wanted to make had to be asked for and approved anyway. He knew that it stung her pride each and every time she had to ask for permission to buy things, especially personal things like tampons, and that is why He made her do it. Chipping away at the pride, and filling the chips with the mortar of His control was essential to keeping her in line. (She was quick to fall when He faltered, something He could only blame Himself for, yet punished her hard for it. It had taken her some time to realize that she was still responisble for her own failures, and would be punished severely for them, even in the wake of a fumble on His part. She was learning, slowly, to hold herself to His standards, even when He wasn't.) He denied her things... often... things that He could well afford to buy, things that she may very well need or want... but it was imperative that she not begin to think that she deserved the comforts of those things that she asked for. That she be well aware of the fact that what He did buy her was a privilege. On the months that He was generous enough to buy her tampons, and let her use them, she was highly aware of the comfort and cleanliness He allowed her and felt deep gratitude. (She had spent more than one miserable week with one hand tucked into her pussy, catching the flow of menstrual blood in her palm and having to beg on her knees every so often to be allowed to wash her hand. Tampons, had indeed, become a privilege).

He found the process of denial and restrictions to be vital in keeping her keenly aware of her position as a slave. Far too often, the comforts and luxuries began to be expected and assumed and she would begin, unintentionally, to see herself as His equal. He was having no part of that. He was strict, and He was mean, yet every bit of that kept her in a constant state of who she is. He didn't only deny her tampons, He extended it to every day activities and occurances. Toilets were easily replaced with pails or kitty litter boxes. He ate in front of her and only gave her small bites or a glass of water. Or she might have her food.. on the floor.. with no utensils. He denied her the use of furniture as a standard rule. She was allowed to sit near Him when He was in the mood to snuggle, otherwise she was entirely banned from furniture. He enjoyed and preferred her to lay next to Him in bed but routinely chained her to the floor next to Him. They showered together where she was required to wash Him and dry Him, and while He mostly encouraged personal hygiene, He would often tell her "5 minutes slut"... or drop the hot water to a minimum which hurried her out. She was not allowed clothes of any kind when at home and was punished quite hard if she wasn't stripping within one or two minutes of returning home. She wore her wrist and ankle cuffs and His collar and nothing else. His touch or view was not to be blocked in any way and the cuffs gave Him quick access to restraining her when the mood struck. And it did.. often. He delighted in binding her up somehow, somewhere and just leaving her there. He enjoyed the sight of it. So in that, even her movements, when unencumbered, were a gift.

What this got Him, in return for His attention to detail and hard work, was a slave who accepted without question, all the limitations.. but who delighted with childlike glee over simple gifts of comfort and luxury. Master became the giver of all things. Even those that most consider to be basic human rights. And slipping her mind and thoughts into being His object, His toy, His whatever, was becoming second nature. Being more than that... now... was becoming uncomfortable and unfamiliar and in time... she would shy from such comforts without His constant reminder... for it would feel unnatural to her.

He also employed the benefits of isolation with His slave. Some days, total isolation, including ear plugs, gag and blindfold. There is something that shifts, deep inside, when the only stimulation is the bite of a crop, or the sting of a flogger. He greatly enjoyed the response to a whisper of a touch, for when one is isolated, any contact is multiplied by thousands. But on a normal day... her isolation was mostly to the outside world. Too many distractions led to a greatly distracted slave in His opinion. Her contact with others was highly limited and defined by Him. While out in public she was forbidden from communicating with anyone. If someone asked her something, she looked to Him to answer. And for His part in it, if the person persisted with attempting to converse with her, He would patiently announce that she was forbidden to speak and if it escalated any farther than that, they left.

It was highly humiliating to be forbidden to speak to anyone in public. She always felt borderline rude to not answer someone when she was spoken to. And it ate at her to have someone walk away.. and look back at them.. with disgust or irritation. She had to try hard to remember that the only approval she needed was from the man next to her. And if she was going to be honest with herself, knowing that she was forbidden from commuicating with others allowed her to block people out of her mind, out of her actions... and focus entirely on Him. And wasn't that the point after all?

Their life at home was heavy D/s.. and heavy S&M.. all too often the world takes the focus away from bdsm and they were both determined to turn that around. Instead of needing to take a break from the world to focus on bdsm, they needed to take a break from bdsm to deal with the world. Consistency.. and a firm hand.. coupled with love and pride... small doses of affection.. and smothered with tons of s&m... made up the recipe of thier life together.

He used many things to keep her in the headspace of object. It. Cunt. When she indicated to Him that she was a "me" or an "I" ... when she began to feel more than what she was.. He took that as a huge personal failure. She functioned perfectly for Him when she believed herself to be nothing more than another tool for Master's pleasure. Anything more than that, led to disservice and dissatisfaction on her part and that of course bled over into lackluster performances and less than enthusiastic slavery. And that was not tolerated for long, let me assure you!

Though some made the claim that He was destroying her self esteem, He maintained that He was building it high.. and proud.. for even a lowly work horse can prance and shake its mane, in pride of a job well done. She did have pride and self-satisfaction in her role. He made sure to praise her often and lavishly for a job well done. But pride and self-esteem in no way gave her the right to be a bitch.. and He cut those attempts off at the knees. Literally.

Punishments for her were hard.. and fast.. and often. He was an 'act now, ask later' type of Man and she was often scrambling to explain something mid-swat. And though she would sometimes feel it was unfair and unwarranted, she was also confident in knowing that nothing would sneak by, nothing would be overlooked. That kept any thoughts of pushing buttons and testing boundaries to a minimum. The boundaries were clearly defined by HIM.. often.

But discipline was another matter entirely. Discipline and training went hand in hand in their house.. and was done almost daily. Nevermind how pleased He may be with her... or how well she was behaving... the training went on regardless. He had found, through trial and error, that adding more BDSM to the mix was ALWAYS a good thing. Rewards for being good and pleasing were not related to discipline and training. Rewards came in the form of restored privileges or small gifts, but nothing affected the discipline and training. That remained constant and unwavering... and as a result of it never being something she could change or affect, she had stopped trying.. and accepted it as fact.

He had many methods at His disposal. One advantage, out of the many, of owning another human was that the sky was the limit in what He could do. Some days He was hard, some days He wasn't. But the beauty in it was that she had no clue, nor say, in what type of day it would be. The heightened anticipation of the daily dose of discipline made her breathless throughout the day. And as often as she was humiliated and pushed and pained and hurt and sobbed through a discipline task, she was also just as often to be giggling and begging for more. What remained a constant truth in it all was her submission to whatever it may be and His power in administering it.

His favorite form of discipline was to assure her place as object. To be used as an object, to be dehumanized, to be callously disregarded as having opinion or feelings. He would often have her kneel, put her head to the floor and clip her collar to a ring embedded in the floor. Her wrists were cuffed to her ankles and her ankles were spread wide and anchored that way and thusly, she was stuck. He gagged and blindfolded her to further the notion that what she thought or wanted to say was insignificant. And, if He was in the right mood, a black cloth was tossed over her head and shoulders, thereby completely excluding her *self* from the rest of her body. She had been well trained to know to keep her back arched and her ass high no matter what. (This had been cemented in her mind by a large meat hook inserted in her rectum and pulled to the wall over her head each and every time she "dropped" her ass.) He did various things to her in this position, while keeping a running commentary of how she was owned and controlled and useful only in ways to please Him. Or He ignored her completely, for one didn't talk to a *thing* or a table or a flower vase. She didn't know which was worse really, to be ignored or reminded. Both served a purpose of debasing her anyway. He fucked her.. hard and painfully. She was not allowed to cum, goodness no. This was not to be pleasurable for her in any way. He propped things up on the shelf of her ass and used her as a table. Items were inserted and removed from her ass and pussy consistently. One object, she later found out, to be a beer bottle, inserted into her lubed asshole until He wanted a drink, whereas He yanked it out, swigged.. and shoved it back in. He smacked, whipped, spanked, pinched, swatted, clamped.... and generally reeked havoc upon the exposed areas of her body.

Or sometimes.. He just left her there. And went to the bar for a drink... or to visit a friend.. or out to His workshop to play and putter. Letting her know that she wasn't always useful to Him at all.. and stopping her from beginning to feel un-replaceable.

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