sucht einen strengen Herrn ⛓️⛓️🤤💦⛓️⛓️⛓

Unterwürfig in das glückliche, strenge Gesicht des Masters schauen dürfen.😍🥰

Lord Dade Of Cumberland

I wrote this a while ago. I still have this dream sometimes. 

I go to the appointed place – an abandoned building in an unfamiliar city. The building has lain vacant for at least a decade, perhaps longer, and has been long since stripped of furniture or anything else that makes it look usable. I had to double-check the address several times before I went in, and when I went in it took me a few minutes to find the instructions that had been left there for me by my future Owner.

In the center of a cavernous room, lit only by an electric lantern, I find a small cage, and in that cage I find a pair of handcuffs, a set of leg irons, a gag, a locking isolation hood, and a letter. The letter is in an envelope with my name. I picked it up first and read it.

This is your last chance to back out. After you follow these instructions, you will become my permanent property and will remain as such for the remainder of your life. If you have any doubts, leave now. The opportunity will present itself again. If, however, you are ready to accept your life as a slave and to become a slave object, you are to place the leg irons around your ankles, put the gag in your mouth, put on the isolation hood, shut and lock the cage door, cuff your hands through the bars of the cage and behind your back, and wait. I will come to collect you shortly.

I know that if I walk away this time I will never work up the courage to come back. So I crawl inside the cage. First one leg cuff, then the next. A sick thrill goes through me as I hear the cuffs ratcheting, but I could still escape, if I wanted. The gag goes in next, a thick panel gag with a cock head that filled my entire mouth, and then what little light there is goes away as I place the leather hood over my head, pull the laces, affix the buckles, and finally stick the small padlocks in their places. But even like this I could escape still – I could wander around outside until someone found me and helped me…

But once I lock the cage door shut, I have sealed my fate. There’s nothing left to do but finish the instructions. I thread the handcuffs through the bars of the cage, clasping one wrist, and then another, until I am left completely immobile.

I’ve done it. There’s no way to back out now. I sit like this for what feels like an eternity, but in reality it is probably only six or seven minutes until I am dimly aware of noises outside of the cage. I feel the entire cage being hoisted onto a dolly, and I, cage and all, am carted roughly through the abandoned building, down a ramp, back outside (I feel the change in the air), and I’m finally lifted onto the back of a truck of some kind. Maybe a van or something, I can’t really tell.

Where am I going? I was never told. I was not told where my Owner lived. I was not told where I was going. I understood that that was part of the deal, that I would never have any clue where I was going.

He dives around for many, many hours. I grow very hungry in the meantime, and thirsty, and several times I cannot  contain my bladder and piss myself, but even though he stops at least six times, I am never asked how I am doing, and I’m not offered anything to drink or eat.

We finally stop. I think we’re in a garage, or something, but I can’t be sure. The cage is roughly pushed from the back of the vehicle and lands several feet below; I grunt in surprise by the force of me hitting the ground. The cage is loaded back onto the dolly, and it and I make a trip up a ramp, through a flat area, and then down another ramp – this ramp is much longer, so I assume we are heading into a basement of some sort.

I am unloaded. I hear the dolly being pulled away, and the cage door opens. Finally, after several minutes, my captor begins to unlock and unbuckle the isolation hood.

Even without the hood, it’s very dark. My captor sits in the shadows, and I am still unable to see his face clearly, but when he speaks finally, his voice is smooth and fluid, baritone and full of authority.

“You are now my slave,” he said. “You have forfeited any rights you once had. You are now an object, without rights. You will never again be free in your lifetime.”

I let the words sink in. I am still gagged, so I nod in acknowledgement.

He comes back with a pair of scissors, a full chastity belt, and what looks like a tube of epoxy. He slowly cuts away my clothes, leaving me restrained in the cage and now naked, revealing my fully erect penis. I understood going into this that chastity would be part of it, but now that I am looking at the chastity belt, I have misgivings.

It’s too late for that, however. He steps inside the cage to put the belt around my waist, slipping my cock into the sheath that is prepared for it, and after a surprisingly short amount of time I am completely belted, my cock locked in a steel pod that reveals only my testicles. Without preamble of any kind, he rubs the epoxy into every lock and crevice in the belt. He places the hood back around my head, buckles it, and leaves.

I drift in and out of sleep, constantly aware of the steel around my cock. I am awakened later by the buckles of the hood coming loose.

“The epoxy has dried,” he says. “You will never cum again, slave.”

I look down to see that he has a collar in his hands. The collar is thick steel, and the chain goes from the collar to the concrete floor. “You will have eleven feet of chain,” he says. “It is just long enough for you to reach the toilet. Once this collar goes on, I am going to seal it just like I sealed your chastity belt. You will never again leave this basement.”

I closed my eyes as I feel the collar go around my neck. The steel is cold, and heavy, and heavier still is the knowledge that it will define my entire existence as an eleven foot radius. The collar snaps closed, and he fills the hinges and lock with the same epoxy he used to make my chastity permanent.

Finally, heavy wrist cuffs and ankle cuffs. I am released from the temporary ones and from the cage just long enough to sit in position. The ankle cuffs are connected by a one-foot chain, but the wrist cuffs have only d-rings to attach locks and things. Both ankle cuffs and wrist cuffs are sealed permanently.

My wrists are locked behind me with a single padlock.

“I will come back later to feed it,” he says. “Its diet will consist of cold oatmeal mixed with energy shakes. It does not deserve to have food like a person.”

He puts the hood back on my head, and leaves. I am left, naked, gagged, chained, sealed in chastity, collared and bound, on the floor.

THERE ARE NO LIMITATIONS TO WHAT CAN or MAY BE DONE TO an Object. IT can be sold, traded, modified, altered, damaged, enhanced, or otherwise changed in ANY MANNER at will and for ANY REASON WITHOUT CONSENT or APPROVAL.

Before taking the object, a couple of inspections of the object would be necessary. That can always be done other places and the object made to put a hood on before the inspection.  Special Lighting can be used when inspecting its face.

I would not have the object chained to the one room in the basement permanently. That would limit just where I could torture and be amused by the object. I will experiment with making things like a chastity belt or collars permanent as today what is really permanent, just usually difficult to remove, which is very appealing. Though change is sometimes hungered for when looking for amusing entertainment.

Einfach nur folgsam sein.

Die Zeit der Flucht, weicht der Ohnmacht.

which are you, faggot…?

fake fags – tell an Alpha what they (the fag) wants… they say things to an Alpha like “i want you to fuck me” and “i love to be dominated” and “i need to be used”

true fags – ask the Alpha what the Alpha wants… they say “Sir, this fag is here for whatever you want…”… they know that it isn’t about what they (the fag) want but rather only what the Alpha wants

fake fags – think being a faggot is only about sex, being fucked, sucking, being used

true fags – know that being a faggot is a way of life, 24/7, all day, every day, and they find every way to serve Men, not only sexually but in every possible way

fake fags – think they are in charge, are brats, create drama

true fags – are submissive, know the Alpha is in charge, and make every effort to make the lives of Alphas better

fake fags – have orgasms, and use their fagdicks for pleasure

true fags – never use their fagdicks for pleasure, but instead focus on the pleasure of Real Men

fake fags – expect an Alpha to be available to them when they (the fag) want

true fags – make themselves available to Alphas whenever an Alpha wants

fake fags – use urinals and piss standing up

true fags – know they are urinals, and piss sitting down

fake fags – tell an Alpha their limits (”i don’t do piss” “i don’t do rough” “i’m not a cashfag” “i don’t do anal” etc.)

true fags – have no limits, do whatever the Alpha wants, are happy to let the Alpha take whatever the Alpha wants

fake fags – think Alphas are their equals, and/or their friends

true fags – know they are inferior, and know that Alphas only tolerate them to get their needs met

fake fags – are selfish, and think only of themselves and their own needs

true fags – are completely focused on the needs and wants of Alphas

fake fags – only act like a fag when it is convenient for them

true fags – are faggots every minute of every day, know they were born as a fag, and spend each day being useful to Men, and trying to be a better fag in every way