Asylum for the Sexually Insane

Nov 6, 2013

What do the sexy delights of two bound, naked, slavevgirls’ breasts and moist pussies, the proximity of Fetish Liza’s warm body, the taste of Kinky Natahsa’s cock and repeated filthy words whispered from my sweet lips all have in common? The answer is that during a week together in Spain they can all be used to drive one of my owned slaves to the edge of insanity with overwhelming lust and repeated tease and denial. Even though they share the ‘stupid-gene’ common to all men, my tiny, select band of owned slaves can sometimes be useful to cook, clean, fetch and carry and generally care for their beloved Mistress. They are all so besotted and addicted to me that I can trust them to instantly carry out any menial task I might require from them – even when that is merely to be humiliated and tormented for the amusement of me and my fellow dommes on holiday in my luxury Mediterranean villa. In return the males who wear Miss Miranda’s collar with pride get what they desire most in life: the opportunity to be near me day after day and the occasional morsel of pleasure when their Mistress can be bothered to think about their sexual and mental well-being.

Among the lowest of the low in my pecking order of willing submissives is one owned slave upon whom I have been experimenting on for some years now. On the first night of my latest filming trip for my private members’ club site this wretch found himself locked into an immovable and heavy steel collar, chafing his neck and making sleep hard and most certainly not comfortable. I told him that the collar was staying in place for the whole week and just might be removed in time for him to return through airport security IF he was utterly obedient and IF I managed not to lose the only key hidden somewhere in my beautiful villa. My lovely domme friend Fetish Liza and even the other slaves there to serve us couldn’t help but laugh at the look of despair that crossed his pathetic features. The beauty of this device is that it acts in the same way as the renowned Chinese water torture: at first the slave thinks he will be able to cope with the nuisance restriction around his neck but as day follows day, the collar seems to weigh heavier and heavier until it is hard for the wearer to think of anything other than the torment – and of the beautiful Mistress who locked it in place.

Of course, what made it worse for the hapless victim was that none of the other slaves serving and filming with me during the week had to put up with similar restrictions. I know from long experience that picking on one pathetic individual whilst being (relatively) nice to others is the best possible way to stoke up a feeling of utter injustice and unfairness which is so important in first bending and then breaking a slave’s will. It’s a good idea to make him watch others having orgasm after orgasm or to let him get within inches – but never touching – my slavegirls’ pussies. The skill is in taking them to the edge of madness in this Miss Miranda Asylum for the Sexually Insane but always leaving a tiny chink of hope that if they perform well enough and accept every humiliation then they might just earn the reward they crave.  With this particular slave the teasing is easy. I simply promise little filthy treats – too dirty to even talk about here – and then forget all about them; I tell him that he may get an orgasm tomorrow – but then get too busy to bother; I tell him that he may be needed to launder my most intimate clothing but then withdraw the privilege with no explanation. Above all, I let him watch scene after scene being filmed where everyone but him is having the greatest sexual fun whilst he remain celibate and frustrated. Then I can just sit back and watch his brain melt and his willpower be destroyed.

I hadn’t originally planned to push this slave over the edge of insanity but as the week unfolded he was stupid enough to let some of his unhappiness show on his miserable slave face; a sure recipe for further mistreatment from me. I like all of my slaves to wear their happy faces, even when I’m inflicting the hardest of torture on their bodies or their minds. He became the butt of every humiliating task and joke, being made to eat and drink only my food scraps or things that I knew he hated. On this rare occasion I even allowed him to be mistreated by others in the party – the ultimate humiliation for a slave whose only shred of remaining dignity depends upon him serving ME, not others. His destruction culminated in a spectacular watersports session where Fetish Liza and I competed to produce glass after glass after glass of house champagne – all of which he was forced to drink down with relish in front of the assembled filming company. Just the sheer quantity of fluid, let alone its delicious content, was a wonderful torture to inflict.

So… has my experiment with this slave’s tiny, single-celled brain been successful? I know that his mind has been broken and his body tormented; I know that his balls are aching with more frustration than he will ever have known before and that his cock seems to have shrivelled even more than normal from disuse. I’ve had to admit him to the asylum in chains for the time being because he has become something of a danger to innocent women. Yet, there is always hope! I may allow him into my presence next week for further extreme bondage and medical tests and to see if anything still works. Will he become a useful slave once again or be consigned to the depths of despair? Only time will tell.

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