Last Updated on 30 June, 2026 by Cara Sutra
Humiliation. Objectification. Dehumanisation. This is the drumbeat through week three of slave penny’s fantasy diary. He isn’t merely a subject anymore, he’s apparatus. An extension of his Owner’s will. This week, the Sisters of Salvation are revealed as a Europe-wide Matriarchy with politics, enemies, and operational hierarchies. They aren’t afraid to demonstrate their effective brand of brutality. penny is deployed to play various small parts in the grand scheme of things. Degradation and the erasure of autonomy are normalised. If you’re new to penny’s diary, I recommend that you begin with my introduction to this series, then read part one and part two before returning to read this one.
Content warning and note: Please remember that ‘diary entries’ published in the FemDom Slave’s Fantasy Diary area of my blog are fiction. They are written and should be enjoyed as erotica, extreme FemDom fantasy created by a male slave’s long-term-chastity-enhanced imagination. Please do not attempt to recreate any part of this story in reality.
Monday, 15th June 2026
Just three days in and so much of the morning had become routine. That’s not to say that i had ceased to be amazed by this new garment that controlled every sinew of my existence.
The nutrition and hydration had been administered and waste bags changed.
i had been at my desk for… well, i don’t actually know how long. Knowledge of time was being denied to me, just as i was denied knowledge of so many things. Let’s say, for some considerable time. i had just clicked the “confirm” button to end a task, when the screen turned that, by now, familiar deep red hue with a Feminine Superiority emblem central and proud.
The garment held me solidly to my work chair as it had done all morning, but to my surprise, the chair suddenly swivelled on its axle. i was now facing the door.
The door opened. A male slave, virtually naked as all of them were, stood in the entrance. i expected him to enter, but he did not; he just stood back leaving the entranceway clear. The indomitable grip of the garment tightened further, and i found myself involuntarily standing upright.
Oh, i wasn’t just standing. i was walking slowly out of my cell, and across to the hallway. There were people in the hallway, all normally dressed, observing me very carefully. How i remained balanced i don’t know, and that i did remain balanced presumably was the concern of these observers.
i walked across the hallway to the door of what had previously been the lounge. A male slave opened the door to allow access. i continued to walk into the room at the acute angle i approached it. Just a couple of steps into the room i stopped, the angle of my body changing as if i had walked into the room straight. The room looked elegant, and had changed significantly.
On a stepped platform directly opposite the entrance door were three elegant thrones. On those thrones sat Goddess Cara, Lady Stana and the third was presumably Lady Yvette. The two Ladies looked stunning in leather trousers and leather jackets, both dark red, matching the colour of the blank screen on my computer, and Goddess Cara was in a breathtaking gold leather catsuit.
“The life garment seems to be a resounding success,” Lady Stana observed.
“Yes,” was the reply from Goddess Cara, “but I struggle to see the need for it if the eventual results from the laboratory prove as successful as they hope.”
“Perhaps just for the slugs,” Lady Yvette commented, and the three laughed.
“I can’t wait until that arrogant, entitled, idiot Julian is in one,” Goddess Cara said between Her laughter, and the others joined in.
“Now for that ingenious ring gag,” one of Them said.
my body took on a surreal shape moulded by the garment. Hands and arms splayed wide, as were my legs. In a very exposed star shape i knelt on the step in front of the divine, beautiful trio, but as i did so my head rose so that i could see nothing but the ceiling, denied the glorious sight of feminine beauty.
The face of Lady Yvette looked down at me from above. She did something on Her phone and i felt something like a jolt in my teeth as something happened to the ring gag.
“Amazing.”
She turned and spoke to Her friends. “Completely gone and now it’s just a clear open ring. Of course, I can’t let that go to waste.”
She chuckled, as did the others. She took a drink from a cup and gargled with the liquid, before pursing Her lips and releasing a sizeable combination of Her saliva and whatever green fluid had been in the cup from between them. i could only watch as the mess descended towards my wide open mouth and then landed inside the held open space. Unable to swallow, i felt it accumulate in my tightened throat. Loud, evil laughter erupted from all three beautiful, divine Women.
Once their laughter quietened, Lady Yvette did something else on Her phone. my teeth jerked and tightened as the gag ring was activated somehow once again.
“I guess slug cum has never seen what his mouth looks like now?” She giggled.
“Let’s be very kind and let him see.”
More laughter, and Her phone, on selfie mode, was held up to my vision.
Before me, i saw the ring holding my mouth open, and what looked like the outer lips and entrance to a vagina between.
Lady Yvette stood over me again.
She looked down at me and sneered.”We’ve been informed it feels as good as it looks. Think of the pleasure you’ll give the slaves who we choose to reward, slug cum.”
Lady Stana called out “James!”, and a gentleman dressed in a smart suit who had been standing in a corner of the room walked over and queried, “Yes, Your Ladyship?”
“Time for your reward,” Lady Stana said as She handed him what looked like a key.
“Where should we have him?” one of Them wondered aloud, as i found myself moving off the step and kneeling on the floor besides the beauty on my left.
“Perfect.” confirmed Lady Stana. “you have served the three of us well as our chauffeur these last 5 days, and here is your reward. Lady Yvette and I will kiss the hands of Goddess Cara, and you will repeatedly call out ‘Glory to Goddess Cara’ as you enjoy your reward.”
“Don’t forget we want to know your opinion on how it feels, too. We can see you’re ready to begin,” She giggled, and indeed his cock was rather intimidatingly swollen. “Insert it,” She commanded, and unceremoniously his dick slid into and filled my mouth, and pressed against my gagging throat.
“Such a good slave, naturally looking towards our Goddess as the first glimmers of reward must be gripping your cock.”
“How is it?” She asked.
“Better than the real thing,” he replied, in a tremulous voice that betrayed his urgent need.
“Continue as commanded,” She said, and i felt sure i heard Her lips begin kissing the hand of our Goddess.
“Glory to Goddess Cara,” he repeated, his glorification timed with each thrust. His stomach pressed hard against my nose and breathing became difficult. The gagging sensation was a lot less than i anticipated. “Glory to Goddess Cara,” he continued, over and over, like a ritualistic chant.
my mind replicated that mantra. Glory to Goddess Cara indeed. This was the prime purpose of my existence. Glory to Cara. Eventually the vocalised “Glory to Goddess Cara” mantra became ragged and high-pitched, then a flood of cum joined the earlier deposited saliva in my throat. Amazingly the post-cum flaccid cock was more of a gagging hazard than the erect and swollen shaft.
James redressed himself and handed the key back to, presumably, Lady Stana.
“Ready the car,” Lady Stana commanded.
He left. But my body was held rigid, my face kept awkwardly turned upwards, in the position they had been in to take his cock.
“A successful morning,” one of Them stated, and the others agreed. Lady Yvette declared, “Oh Goddess, I do adore You,” still evidently kissing the hand of the Goddess to whom She was clearly devoted.
The Ladies left, leaving the room behind me. No doubt this was unintentional, but in so doing i was denied any further view of Their powerful beauty.
The room fell silent and suddenly my garment sprang back into life. my head was returned to its usual forward view, the ring gag sealed the entrance of my mouth once more. i was walked robotically back to my cell, to the chair at my desk, where the next task was on my monitor.
Back to my normal day, except that my mouth and throat were full of an obnoxious gunge that, due to being unable to swallow, merely seeped away agonisingly slowly throughout the afternoon and evening.
Tuesday, 16th June 2026
Some days are going to be tediously boring. Despite the garment that controls my every movement, the ring gag that can be transformed to look like a welcoming vulva, the fact i am living and working in a single cell, being denied basic knowledge such as time, my slug being in a permanent chastity device, nutrition and hydration being fed through a peg in my stomach, and tubes and bags inside the garment meaning i never need to go to the toilet ever again, this was just a boring, tedious day until the very end. Certainly tedious when compared to the previous day.
i had the usual morning visit from a female slave. i say a female slave, because this one was different to the now familiar other female slave that had fed and watered me through a tube in my stomach and replaced the plastic waste bags below my knees the previous mornings. She was no less emotionless than the other. Both were like automatons going about their duties.
Since puberty i had put all girls and women on a pedestal above their male counterparts. No doubt it is because of that there is a part of me that struggles a little with the concept of female slaves.
At the same time it is hard not to wonder what cruel processes had created this robotic, inexpressive, pitiless demeanour, and the thought of sadistic and ruthless depravities being ordered by the three stunningly beautiful, playful and jubilant High Priestesses before whom i was humiliated yesterday, enhanced my devotion to Them. Glory to Them. Let all, including other women, bow before Them.
A day at my desk from early that morning until late into the evening without any break whatsoever. Task after task after task. Meal and toilet breaks not necessary.
How late in the evening it was i had no clue, but my last task was to write this diary note before returning to lie on my bed.
Tomorrow, apparently, was to be an early start.
It had become clear that when i lay on my bed a decision was made, that i had no part in, as to whether it was time to sleep or not. i would either be induced to sleep (with the cold feeling i now recognised in the back of my hand), or my computer would come back to life and there would be more tasks for me to do.
Having finished this diary note, i will now see whether i get the relief of sleep or not.
Wednesday, 17th June 2026
Sleep had been permitted, but it could not have been much. It was very late when i lay on the bed and it must have been around 4am at a guess, if not before, when the lights in my cell came on. i realised there were other slaves in my cell forcibly removing me from the bed.
The garment that had controlled my every move was removed, as was the ring gag.
i was given the same outer clothing that other male slaves are given (something akin to a monk’s habit but without the hood) and was taken out of the building and into the back of a van with seven others. But where the other slaves wore rudimentary sandals, my feet were bare.
The space in the back of the van, which surprisingly had windows on each side, also had a bench running along the full length from driver cab to the back doors. The eight of us boarded the van and sat four a side. Another van parked alongside similarly had eight slaves climbing into the rear.
Doors slammed shut and the van, presumably just like the other alongside, began to move off. Instinctively i stared just above the head of the male slave opposite me and found myself mimicking the emotionless manner of the female slaves that had visited me over the previous few mornings. i was not alone, as the other seven, clearly more used to all this than i was, were also acting this way. We were effectively goods being transported.
After a long drive, over what must have been an hour and a half, we passed the gatehouse where i had received surgery some days before and continued down the drive.
We went over the brow of a hill and could see a very impressive country mansion below us.
It was still comparatively early, having only been light for around half an hour. At this time of year, i guessed it could be no later than 5.30am.
There was a gorgeous forecourt in front of the house with a fountain in the middle.
The vans didn’t stop in the forecourt but drove up the side of the house to a side door, closer to the rear than the front of the building.
All 16 of us slaves were ushered out, then hurried through a door and along the stone floor of a hallway. We stopped outside what i guessed was a WC. The slave at the front was ushered inside the cubicle. Something was said to him as he went in, but i couldn’t hear from where i was, sixth in the queue. When he came out a minute or so later, he was motioned into a different room, further along the corridor. One by one the queue moved forward and finally i could make out what was said to the slave in front of me as he went into the cubicle.
“you will not be able to go to the toilet for another 6 hours,” he was warned, a warning which was then understandably heeded.
Fortunately the feeding of nutrition and hydration through a stomach peg dramatically reduces the need for such time-wasting activities as using a toilet. As it turns out, i had not even had my usual feeding and hydration needs met this morning, so i was fine but still made use of the, by now quite foul-smelling, loo. The room a few yards up the hallway turned out to be a large kitchen-style area.
The first two slaves were already standing in an area well to my left, wearing the most ridiculous contraptions. The first slave was now being polished. Yes, polished. The third slave was just being fitted into theirs.
They had each been fitted into a latex gimp suit, but each arm ended with their hand having matching inflatable spherical areas. These were being inflated via a pump through a valve on the back of each hand.
Next, headphones were fitted to each slave’s head before a larger ball, a sphere like that at the end of both arms, was zipped onto the suit. This was also inflated, through a valve hideously placed right on top of the head.
The end result was all three slaves having similarly sized, comical spheres in place of their heads atop their bodies. Pretty much identical to each other, apart from the fact that the first one was incredibly shiny, having been polished to perfection.
This production belt soon reached me, and very quickly the form-fitting suit was gripping my body and my hands had been shoved into their balloons. Headphones were placed on to me, then i felt a little trepidation and for a moment i was struggling for breath, but then, cocooned in silence and darkness. i could hear nothing of what was going on in the kitchen. Ushered to my left, i felt myself being polished.
i was motioned to move here, there and everywhere for the next few minutes, but also left to stand on occasions for what seemed like a lot longer than it probably was.
At some point i felt myself being led through corridors and into distant parts of the building before eventually finding myself moved back against a wall.
i had forgotten i was wearing noise cancelling headphones, so a female voice breaking the silence came as a shock.
“Stand straight, shoulders back, arms and hands down by your sides.” i obeyed, and the response was a curt, “good.”
“There is a very important conference taking place here today, with very powerful Women visiting from all over Europe. Our Goddess and the other Ladies are set to impress, and you have been selected to be part of that.”
“you are a decorative object. you will not move under any circumstance. you may be stroked, and a visiting Lady may put Her finger on the air valve in front of your nose for amusement. Under no circumstances will you move.”
“you will be like this for 6 hours, then there will be a break for a few minutes, and then another 6 hours.”
After that shocking declaration, silence. The inside of the suit was already getting uncomfortably warm, and my forehead was wet with perspiration.
There was no denying that 6 hours would feel like eternity. There was no distraction that could fully overcome it. The first 30 minutes or so were purgatory, but then i think i actually became the object i was meant to be. Devoid of mental thought or awareness, i felt myself succumb to the eternity of soundless dark.
Six hours will pass whatever your situation, and pass the six hours did.
my trance was broken. Once more i was ushered along to a room fairly near to where i had been standing.
There, the balloon on my head was deflated and removed. i was in a room with some of the other “objects” and we were being joined by still more. An adjoining toilet was pointed out to me, and, although there was no obvious need for me to use it, i did so anyway.
About ten minutes passed. Through the doorway to the room walked a stunningly beautiful Woman, wearing a glamorous full-length ball gown made of a spectacular shimmering green material which emphasised every curve of Her gloriously sensual figure. It was Lady Stana.
“There will be no lunch or refreshments for any of you. we do not want to stress you with toilet demands in the next 6 hours. you see, we are kind, and only have your interests at heart.”
She laughed at that, and the ripple it sent through the shimmering material that was fortunate enough to grace Her body was so erotic it could have stopped a thousand ships. She turned and walked out of the door, and how many ships that beautiful sight may have stopped i couldn’t begin to imagine.
At Her departure, the balloons on the heads of others were being put back on, with my turn arriving in due course. i was cocooned and back against the wall in what seemed like no time.
“If Lady Stana looked like that, what must Goddess Cara look like?”
That was the thought that consumed me for the next half an hour or so, until the objectification stasis consumed me once more. Somehow, i survived the second, agonising, six-hour shift.
Finally, our balloon heads were removed once again. we had made our way back to the kitchen-style room where we had first been suited up that morning. It was such a sweet, blessed relief to be allowed to peel off the rest of the costume, the cold floor of the kitchen providing a refreshing contrast to the hot, sweaty 12-hour shift with only a short break in the middle.
There was no banter, not even the recognition that any others of us existed.
We were each given something resembling a cushion, but a poor excuse for one, and it was clear this was to be our head pillow. With horror, i realised we were to sleep on the cold stone floor.
“slug cum!” was yelled three times before i realised that was me, and i raised my hands. Anywhere else that name would have caused laughter and derision amongst a group of males. Not here. Emotionless silence remained.
i was handed something like a smartphone device.
“you have two hours to do your diary,” i was informed, as i noticed a Notes app on the screen. Obediently, i started tapping out my diary for that day.
Exactly two hours and one minute later, i clicked the “complete” button. The device was placed into a small box just outside the door of the kitchen, as i’d been instructed via the screen.
Thursday, 18th June 2026
A stone floor, and a pillow for the head that was only a little thicker than the absent blanket i desperately craved through the cold night, yet i slept well and woke replenished. i had awoken at various points in the night but had been able to get back to sleep.
Unsurprisingly, we were awoken at a cruel early hour; this was June but the sun had not yet risen. Woken, but for now, left alone. A group of loyal soldiers would share thoughts and concerns. i had them, and no doubt, so did my slave companions.
Are we finished here, or will we find ourselves standing like statues for another 6 or 12 hours?
Will we be given any food, and what would it be? There was no doubt we all shared these questions, but none were spoken aloud.
Just like the others, i had no desire to communicate any of my thoughts or to betray any emotion through my face. my thoughts were kept as firmly under lock and key as They kept all of us, as if in a prison. It would not do to allow these thoughts to evolve into tangible emotion. Who knew where that could lead.
Perhaps every slave in that room, along with me, thought the same way. Thinking of each other, “have they been conquered in the same way i have? Are they honed to obey through extreme and unrelenting submissive torment through their sexual areas, just as i am?” These thoughts and similar seemed to echo off the walls in the silent room.
At least one question of mine ended up being answered, eventually.
Thoughts swirled in my mind when we were all ushered back into the vans that had originally transported us the previous morning. i had been wondering if i’d be put back into the life garment, that outfit which controlled and dictated my every muscular movement, could put me to sleep instantly, and so much more besides. In addition, would the abhorrent ring gag be reinserted? i could barely tolerate considering it. Instead, i sought distraction, and tried to erase it from my mind completely.
None of us dared to assume anything, including that we’d be taken back to where we’d originally been transported from, but taken back there we were.
The van came to its rumbling stop, and the back doors were opened. The others crossed to the door leading into the building. Each one of them, unlike myself, seemed to know exactly what they were doing. i clearly didn’t, but followed them inside anyway. Copying them, i took off my outside tunic and threw it into a big basket just inside the entrance hall. Then following became impossible as they all went their separate ways, without any need for guidance or instruction.
A moment of confusion and a sense of being lost. An air of panic and fear gripped me momentarily. i knew where my cell was, but that was clearly locked. Everyone else was naked and in chastity just like me; but they were in control of whatever task they were performing, i was lost. This unwelcome sensation was only brief, then my arms were gripped by two familiar almost-naked female slaves, just wearing their chastity belts.
i followed them into what looked like a wet room. The walls, floor and ceiling were fully tiled, with a large waterfall showerhead at the far end. The female slaves stood to one side and i instinctively carried on past them towards the shower head.
As i reached it, it was suddenly like i’d been pushed backwards with brute force. Not by an arm, but by water. It was a high pressure hose held by one of the female slaves. The pressure was forceful enough to restrain me against the wall of the wet room. my arms and legs were forced apart via the hose, and my front was fully exposed to the water, as was my back after hand signals motioned me to turn around. The water stopped and the other slave woman applied soap to my wet body using a sponge on the end of a plastic pole. Once my body and hair were fully covered with soap suds, the water was switched back on again and i was soon fully drenched and lather free. A towel was handed to me and the slaves waited patiently until i was dry.
From there i was put back into my cell, and the first question i asked myself in the van was answered. The life garment was put back on. It smelt clean and i realised it was clean. It too had clearly been washed recently.
The plastic waste bags under my knee caps obviously did not need replacing, but i was fed and watered via the plug in my belly.
The second question I’d asked myself was then answered for me. The ring gag was unfortunately placed back into my mouth, and i had to learn to cope without being able to swallow easily once again.
The life garment took full control of me once the female slaves left. It took me to my chair at the desk, where the monitor took over my day, with task after task for the remainder of the day and well into the evening. The first task being to complete this diary note.
Normal service, if there now is such a thing, was restored.
Friday, 19th June 2026
The trip to the mansion the previous day and night, especially the 12 hours of rigid objectification, had left me with a significant number of aches and pains together with numerous stiff joints. The garment was unaware of these as it marched me from the bed to the office chair in the early hours of the morning. Struggling with such discomfort would normally result in me doing stretches and bends to loosen up, but the garment controlled every move and i did not have the liberty to do anything.
It dawned on me, with a sense of horror, that being prevented from movement of my own volition might permanently cause my joints to seize and become useless. What was clearly evident was that the garment didn’t need my joints to function in order for me to move. The wearer of such controlling attire may eventually become fully dependent on the garment in order to move about, despite initially being fit and physically capable beforehand. Such a deliciously cruel thought to start my day.
This was to be a routine day when i would hopefully start to get used to the ring gag again. Assuming, of course, that i ever could get used to such a gruesome device at all.
i lost count of the number of tasks i performed yesterday. It was well over 20. None of the tasks were short and simple. None i would have preferably allocated less than an hour to, yet i completed around 25 in the 18 hours between -and this is a guess, as i still don’t have access to clocks- 5am and 11pm.
Whether it be domestic chores or office tasks such as these, the obedience of a male slave is honed, persuaded and induced through sexual arousal, often so intense it could be accurately described as torment.
Hence the chastity and cages. i can only write about me, but in my case the cage is a support. Any post ejaculation feeling for me, is very different to that of other, real men. Orgasm and release are not the gateway to any sense of satisfaction that other men have told me about. There is no sense i am freed from “the psychological tension of arousal when the brain returns to some kind of baseline state which allows for clear, rational thought”. There is no “afterglow”. For me, there is only an extremely flat mood, deep depression and a physical as well as mental malaise.
In my case, the brain and body are far more centred and focused when driven by intense submissive sexual torment. The very arousal that would invariably distract other men from everyday chores, focuses the slave. Performing the task and doing it well is a form of submissive masturbation. i am helpless and completely compliant. A metaphoric leather-gloved hand of Goddess Cara is teasing my cage and testicles every second i toil, without any resistance and with a determination to please and benefit Her. Her laughter of satisfaction, pleasure and cruelty in the background during every second of that intense work state.
There is no time for thoughts such as these during the rest of the working day. Whereas this diary note demands such introspection.
i recall my reaction to seeing Lady Stana when She briefly called in at the mansion. The gorgeous material clung to Her, especially Her rear as She turned to leave.
It reminded me of an evening close to 50 years earlier. A Christmas ball. When all the young women, including my fiancée, were dressed in similar gowns. She was dancing with a younger man that actually worked under me in the section i managed. i didn’t like him much. The material of her gorgeous ball gown contoured her rear perfectly, emphasising her womanly shape perfectly. He had a hand on one of those smoothly contoured cheeks, not just resting on it but grasping it and pulling their bottom halves tightly together. i sensed the heat of his cock and the reciprocal heat of her vagina longing for one other. There was no indication of any resistance from her.
my male peers would have reacted very differently to me. It was a kind of cuckolding and i was undoubtedly aroused. However, i was also conscious that if any of my friends saw what i could see, as well as my lack of reaction, it would look weak. Being submissive was, and arguably still is in some circles, seen as pathetic and weak, so being submissive was not something many men would admit to either then or now. It’s a bit like that Monty Python Lumberjack song. So, i left the room, and spent a considerable amount of time in the kitchen talking to the other billy-no-mates that ended up congregating there.
i digress. Yesterday was a new, i guess what i can now call normal, hard-working day, from start to finish. Held rigidly at my desk by my life garment and having been fed and watered by a plug in my stomach by a virtually naked female slave earlier that day. Yes, a completely normal day.
Saturday, 20th June 2026
This morning followed the same pattern as yesterday, except for the fact that the aches and pains of the previous morning had, thanks be to our Goddess, all but disappeared.
It was late morning or possibly lunchtime that i found myself in the back of a van and being transported once again. i was still in the garment that gripped me like a second skin and controlled every movement. It had taken me from my cell to the outside door and into the van, without any muscular assistance from me. There were four other male slaves accompanying me in the back of this van. Their otherwise naked bodies covered by the same outside tunic that they’d previously worn.
It was particularly notable that unlike myself, all four were tall and muscular.
Just like the previous occasion, there was no talking, no eye contact between us but a shared sense of emotional detachment. With my ring gag still in place i could neither speak nor properly swallow, but one can imagine what might be said if i was sitting with any other men with a wedged open mouth which looked like a vaginal entrance.
The route of the van soon became familiar and, after possibly an hour, we arrived at the same side door of the mansion that we had entered a couple of days before.
The garment took me into the stone-floored hallway immediately behind that door and gripped me like it normally does on my bed, but on this occasion, i stood erect facing the entrance from which i had entered like a soldier on parade. i also sensed a jerk in the ring and my tongue confirmed the silicone vulva design had withdrawn.
It is no exaggeration to say that hours passed as i waited. At least this time i had vision and sound, but there was little to see and it was very quiet.
It was well into the evening when the side door of the mansion was flung open, and four men dressed in army fatigues marched in, followed by a number of other male slaves in their normal tunics. Some of these slaves bore the shared weight of a hefty pole between their shoulders. Hanging from the centre of these wooden poles, i realised with a cold sense of shock, were what appeared to be a struggling person mostly wrapped in a yellow plastic sack. Their ankles and wrists were bound upwards, to the pole, as if they were meat being transported to a feast, ready for roasting. As one passed close to me i could make out the look of intense horror, through the garish yellow plastic, on the face of the poor wretch within. Horror which would have undoubtedly translated to screams, if a devious device wasn’t clearly keeping their terror entirely mute.
The procession turned down the corridor in the opposite direction, the thundering footsteps ebbing away, until all fell silent once more.
Hours once again passed and it had been pitch black and silent since shortly after that earlier sudden event. i didn’t know what awaited me, and i was too scared to dwell on the possibilities for any length of time.
At some point the garment i was wearing sprang into life. It walked me through a maze of corridors, deeper into the building, until i finally entered what was clearly my destination. A very small room, with an equally small bed, upon which the garment deposited me. Unlike previous occasions, the garment didn’t vacuum-pack me ready for sleep. Curious. A dim bulb barely lit the room, showing me the same smartphone style device on which i completed my diary note a couple of nights earlier. The light also allowed me to make out a box similar to the one i had placed the device in after completion of the task. Instructions therefore weren’t needed, it was obvious what was required of me, and i have just written this note.
You may think that the events of such a day would cause anyone deep concern, not to mention trepidation, about what may happen tomorrow, but surprisingly there is none. There is no emotion at all, and awareness of that is ironically disconcerting. Even more disturbing is the realisation that, instead of the return of emotion, i would prefer the removal of my awareness, as a solution to all of the above.
All day and all evening, just like all previous days and evenings, i have been intensely submissively aroused. Tormented via my sexual regions at extremely high levels without any respite. Yet i have not mentioned it in any other diary notes so far, if i recall correctly. Intense submissive physical feelings are becoming as normalised as is the lack of emotion, which includes fear.
i suspect that once i place this device in the receptacle as required, the garment will vacuum-pack me ready for sleep, induced as usual by the cold sensation in the back of my right hand.
A blink of an eye, and tomorrow will be upon me.
Sunday, 21st June 2026
my mind was far from fully awake as my body, gripped by the life garment, had me walking robotically but at speed along the stone-floored corridors and then down stone steps to the depths of the mansion and into a large, dimly lit underground cellar.
The first sight that hit me was so shocking it cut through my recent lack of emotion and fear entirely. Four people were chained and spreadeagled, each on their own X-shaped cross, which was in turn firmly attached to one of the cellar’s stone walls.
Three men and one woman, naked, spirits clearly broken, their heads flopped and resting on their shoulders or chests. They emitted infrequent moans, weak and muted, but little sound in the cellar otherwise.
Three muscular males, whom i surmised were slaves due to their cocks being locked into steel chastity cages, stood stridently in front of the chained-up prisoner quartet. These apparent henchmen were each adorned with a leather belt to which matching leather shoulder straps were attached.
i found myself kneeling on something the size of a car wheel lying on the floor. As i did so, the nearest henchman walked over and strapped my calves down to the wheel. A few moments afterwards, i felt the garment tighten around me and the hood of the garment likewise tightened around my forehead and chin. my head and body were tightly gripped in a kneeling position, with my head slightly but firmly raised upwards. Only my eyes, nose and mouth remained uncovered.
The wheel turned and i, like everyone else, found myself facing the wall opposite upon which the dispirited prisoners were suspended.
At least an hour passed. Apart from the infrequent, weak moans of pain, there was no sound, nor any movement.
A large door opened, and four male slaves entered, naked of course. At the same time, that area of the cellar became illuminated, spotlighting a small platform on which sat two large chairs. Thrones.
The slaves were followed by Goddess Cara and Lady Stana. Both were adorned in tight black leather trousers and matching leather tops, as well as matching low-heeled ankle boots.
They sat elegantly on the thrones. Goddess Cara signalled the slaves guarding the prisoners.
As She did so, my chair rotated so that i was gifted a full, clear view of proceedings.
One of the guards took what looked like a leather belt and unceremoniously started to strap the front of the male prisoner on the left of the quartet.
The sound of each stroke echoed around the stone walls and floor.
i didn’t count the vicious strokes, or the screams that answered each strike. The flesh began to bleed, and each scream seemed louder than the one before. i made a conscious point of counting when another henchman started on the second male prisoner. Thirty strappings each, accompanied by piercingly loud screams. The third man received the same punishment from the third henchman, and finally the two henchmen that had strapped the first two men gave ten strokes each to the woman. Her high-pitched wails and screams certainly reflected her agony and the brutality of the punishment.
The fronts of the beaten bodies were now saturated in scarlet, with weeping welts, and their piteous wails and cries rang out through the room. At the same time, the room was devoid of sympathy. If this quartet were enemies of Goddess Cara and Lady Stana, vengeance was certainly Theirs.
my wheel turned again, and i was facing the platform.
Goddess Cara spoke to Her henchmen. “Your Goddess thanks you for your capture of these enemies of the Sisters of Salvation. your reward is justified.”
A male slave standing near Lady Stana approached the henchmen, and my wheel turned once more to face that side of the room.
The slave gave a key to each henchman and took each of their cages as they removed them. As he did so, i could see the thick drool from weeks and weeks of, almost certainly teased, chastity stretching from their cocks to the cage as it was withdrawn.
It is difficult to recall the events that followed, as intensely humiliating as they were, but i am compelled to try.
The henchmen took turns penetrating and thrusting in and out of the enticing vaginal opening of my ring gag. They pounded the back of my throat without showing anything resembling sympathy. It was hardly a surprise to me that the engorged cocks of these large, muscular henchmen were likewise enormous, and i was grateful for their long periods of chastity which brought about ejaculation, then post-orgasm flaccidness, very rapidly in each and every case. It was doubtless hastened by the Glorious Feminine Leather-Clad Beauty that they worshipped as they fucked my mouth and throat mercilessly.
As the ring gag made immediate or easy swallowing impossible, the large accumulation of ejaculate at the back of my throat would take some time to seep beyond my tonsils and become consumed by me. A vile realisation. Still, it was a relief to be free of the throat-fucking and gagging sensations. As well as the all-consuming humiliation of being transformed into a wank toy for other slaves, nothing more than an object, a waste receptacle for their copious and pungent deposits.
Lady Stana appeared in my vision. She walked past me without stopping, on towards the male prisoner at the end of the row. Her leather glove cruelly gripped his chin, and the leather knuckles of Her other hand landed two heavy punches on his nose that sprayed blood with each punch. She then spat in his face before coolly walking away, and both Goddess Cara and Lady Stana left the room.
Later that afternoon, after another hour or so on the road in the van, i was back in my office cell once again. Tasks were viewed then completed as directed by my computer like any other ‘normal’ day. Apart from one thing. Even now, at bedtime, much of the henchmen’s ejaculate remains in my throat, seeping down to my stomach one revolting droplet at a time.
by slave penny
This post is the third instalment of weekly diary entries by slave penny. Despite being described and presented as diary entries, the activities and happenings described therein are fiction. They do not represent our real Mistress/slave dynamic or interactions. They are the product of my real life FemDom slave’s chastity-enhanced imagination, and are published here purely as erotic fantasy for your entertainment as well as my own. Any opinions presented in this piece are penny’s own.
Please do not attempt to recreate or actually live in the ways described in this erotic fiction piece. All BDSM activities require mutual trust, care, and active consent, whether you play within the SSC or RACK framework.
Click to discover the entire series of FemDom slave fantasy diary entries.
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