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Montresor
Super-Earth
- Joined
- Mar 6, 2016
It does not remember much of Its life before Master. All It has are faded memories and subtle feelings; as foreign and lost as a dream to the reality of morning.
It does not have a name anymore, only a serial number tattooed forever into Its skin, and whatever Master decides to call it: Bitch, Cunt, Worthless, Rape Meat, Cock Sleeve, Pet.
It does not have hair anymore, kept sterile by shaving and waxing every inch of the body.
It does not know freedom anymore, buried alive in a skintight layer of latex. It's eyes are covered, each hole plugged with a rubber cock. Wireless headphones fill its ears, providing it with only what Master wants it to hear.
It lives in a dark basement, shackled often and desperate for attention. It begs to be played with, to be abused; anything to break the silence and loneliness.
It sleeps on a tight leather body bag, stored away in a compartment beneath the floorboards like a forgotten toy.
It doesn't know love or mercy anymore. It only knows reverence and fear for Its Master. It needs Master. It could never go back, sad and broken and without purpose.
It's Master keeps photos of when it was a girl so it can remember that it wasn't always broken. Those memories scare It now.
It begs for Master, It fucks anything for Master, It suffers for Master.
It is broken.
It does not have a name anymore, only a serial number tattooed forever into Its skin, and whatever Master decides to call it: Bitch, Cunt, Worthless, Rape Meat, Cock Sleeve, Pet.
It does not have hair anymore, kept sterile by shaving and waxing every inch of the body.
It does not know freedom anymore, buried alive in a skintight layer of latex. It's eyes are covered, each hole plugged with a rubber cock. Wireless headphones fill its ears, providing it with only what Master wants it to hear.
It lives in a dark basement, shackled often and desperate for attention. It begs to be played with, to be abused; anything to break the silence and loneliness.
It sleeps on a tight leather body bag, stored away in a compartment beneath the floorboards like a forgotten toy.
It doesn't know love or mercy anymore. It only knows reverence and fear for Its Master. It needs Master. It could never go back, sad and broken and without purpose.
It's Master keeps photos of when it was a girl so it can remember that it wasn't always broken. Those memories scare It now.
It begs for Master, It fucks anything for Master, It suffers for Master.
It is broken.
The Roleplay
The above is the vision of one my more dark fantasies: the complete dehumanization and life-long enslavement of a girl.