noise dept.
No title available
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
No title available
hello vonnie
oozey mess
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
izzy's playlists!
Misplaced Lens Cap
NASA
One Nice Bug Per Day
blake kathryn
🪼
Discoholic 🪩
AnasAbdin
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
$LAYYYTER
taylor price
pixel skylines
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from Czechia
seen from Italy
seen from United States
seen from Poland
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
seen from Germany
seen from Netherlands
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Russia
seen from South Africa
seen from Russia
seen from United States
seen from Russia
seen from Mexico
@smokeybear9
It was a matter of sorting priorities. The housework they're able to do separately is nice and all, but I feel like I get more out of watching them scramble to get the same amount done while keep those two tits no more than 6 inches apart.
Whoever came up with the old adage "two heads are better than one" must've never chained those two heads together by their tits, because they are NOT particularly graceful or effective. But it's fun, nonetheless.
Ownership gives you access to solutions to problems that you'd otherwise probably have to keep to yourself.
She has trouble keeping her mouth open to catch your cum? No worries! Give her some piggy ears, a nose strap, and a mouth speculum and tell her that good little piggies eat everything they're given.
Being the last slave of the lot to go to auction is a real mindfuck, I'm sure. You have to wonder how or why you were chosen to be the last one - was it planned? If so, what reasons could there be to make her go last...? Is that a good or a bad thing?
At this point, being sold is an inevitability that you've likely come to terms with, but it's never something you look forward to. What if all the good owners already bought slaves, and the only people left are the truly awful and heinous? What if you were held back as a special order for someone you used to know in vanilla life?
What if you are somehow considered the premier slave of the lot? The sliver of pride you feel quickly morphs into guilt and shame that you're even in this position to begin with. You find yourself hoping that you're a high-value slave, which in and of itself causes you to shed a tear for what you used to be.
What if you don't get sold at all? What if all the buyers have left and they forgot you were still here? Is there something wrong with you?
If it wasn't already, it becomes clear that control is a luxury you'll never again get to enjoy.
slavesofmasters
This is my love language. Which means it's now your love language.
Source: my-naughty-lunchbox
Past a certain point, the fact that her owner commanded her to "stay" becomes just as strong as any chain or rope in keeping her where he wants. To her, the fact the she isn't physically held in-place has little bearing on whether or not she's free to move.
Given time and the proper motivation, flexibility can be a skill rather than a talent.
When its good it gets a blanket….when it’s bad it freezes its ass off
In my experience, explaining to someone that doesn’t already get it on some level how it could be possible to enjoy being a chained slave is almost universally fruitless. It’s like a fish attempting to explain to a human how to breathe under water.
tutelage
I know it seems uncomfortable, but you should see what it was before the hay.
Trust me - the hay is an upgrade.
Hosed off
In terms of how likely it is that she could’ve escaped either her predicament or the hose down, this is technically no more secure than the single 10-foot chain padlocked from her ankle to the wall that had held her during the first few bath times she experienced. I don’t HAVE to put her in a small cage with arms rigidly locked above her in order to get her clean - in fact, it’s rather more effort on my part...
But if basic commands, colder water, or the credible threat of more serious consequences for continuing weren’t enough to abate her repeated loud and physical protests of my cleaning methods, then simplicity becomes a hindrance to getting my message across. Thus evolves the everyday events in the life of a slave and her owner.
Few things hit you as consistently with that feeling of pure satisfaction as when you unlock the slaves basement cellar and hear the familiar rattle of nervous anticipation reverberating through her cage and chains.
The cage of my dreams. Pure metal, in a corner of the basement, with even smaller door, which I should crawl through it and doesn’t even have a flat bottom to rest on.
It isn't one I use all that often, but this cage has a special property to it: the slave I take out of it is never quite exactly the same as the one I put into it.
The satisfied smile of a slave in strict bondage naturally comes as a surprise to many outside the "lifestyle", for lack of a better term. After all, what could be enjoyable about spending hours locked naked in a wood and metal contraption outdoors?
The mistake in that is assuming what the slave gets out of it is different from what everyone else in the world is seeking on a fundamental level in their lives.
The source of that smile is something that almost every person on earth struggles to find: unassailable clarity of purpose.
You should probably wait here.
Before being fully trained, she used to ask a lot of questions in the moment. Things like "what is THAT thing?!", "You're not going to put me in that, are you?", and "Can I please cum, sir?". It took her a while, but she finally understood that merely asking the question gave me more information about her than she could ever get from my answer. That, and it almost always lead to whatever we were doing going the direction she "secretly" hoped it wouldn't.
Now, even when she isn't gagged, she just sits quietly until made to speak.
Here we see a slut at the "reluctant acceptance" stage of her training. She's begun to grasp the concept that whining (or really resistance of virtually any kind) is only going to make the situation worse - and it can *always* be worse. She still clings to the last bits of defiance that make her feel like she still has some semblance of control, but it's mostly just for show at this point.
She'd rather obey and then sulk about it than experience just how creative I can be in adding nuance to her suffering.
When sight, sound, and smell are all removed from your perception toolbox, the sensations you’re left with become amplified. This is not limited to the physical senses, either. She knows that there are people here, but not exactly who or how many. She knows their intentions are less than pure, but not to what extent that may be the case. Her restraints aren’t particularly tight or confining by many comparisons, but she feels simultaneously smothered and exposed by the combination of their control and the unconfirmable certainty that her naked body is the center of attention. Other than her owner, she had been alone in the room when the plugs and blindfolds went in/on.
She can only imagine the conversations swirling around her, some almost made real by the occasional brush of disturbed air she feels at some nearby movement. Periodically, as though she could see something that we could not, she’d flinch or wince from some stimulus imperceptible to our unfettered senses. Each time her paranoia got the best of her, you could feel it chip away at the already tenuous hold she had over her fear - her shivering steadily grew in intensity before anyone ever laid a finger on her.
But that we did. At first, only a glancing rub from a finger. But even that elicited a startled gasp. She was a spectacle of overstimulated reaction - every single finger or hand that offered the slightest touch at first, if judged only by her reaction, must’ve felt like the crack of a whip. But we were all just getting started...
None of this was ultimately a surprise to her - it was all talked about beforehand with her owner. But little could prepare her for how something like this would feel in the moment. And that was *precisely* what made it so wildly amazing for the both of them.
Fear - (for some) the only single-application two-way aphrodisiac.
A good Owner doesn't control his slave purely through fear, force and intimidation.
A good Owner exerts his control by inspiring trust and devotion - creating a world for his slave in which she yearns to and feels safe to provide for his desires. Obedience follows naturally.
After that though, fear, force, and intimidation certainly have their place...
