The life of a naked slave has become enjoyable for me. I have accepted the constant nudity, the sexual objectification, the humiliations and the harsh punishments as a way of life. I love the women who dominate me, and I accept the pleasures of submission
I know the whip, for I taste it often. In my slave role, I require it and I accept it. I know ropes on my limbs, and they feel good there.
After more than two years of living as a naked slave, I've explained many times to my mother that this is the life I want for myself. Even after Princess Bedrohlich releases me and returns me to my homeland, I still wish to be objectified, abused, tied up and subjected to harsh punishments.
I've answered hundreds of questions truthfully about my need for bondage and punishment, and it was my hope and belief that my mother would become one of the dominant women in my life who would make me helpless, give me harsh orders and subject me to cruel punishments.
Thus, it came as a shock to me when it was announced that my mother would instead become one of Princess Bedrohlich's slaves.
I was happy with the idea of spending the next ten, twenty, even thirty years as a naked slave, being forced to serve dominant woman, being used and abused and cruelly punished for no good reason and being forced to sexually submit to friends, family and total strangers.
However, I was not happy with the idea of my mother being subjected to the same sort of merciless and humiliating treatment. I have strong feelings of respect and admiration for my mother and it's still distressing to be made to watch as she's paraded around naked, sexually abused, objectified, spanked and whipped for the entertainment of others.
Of course, as a slave, I had no power to dictate what happened to my mother. It was all out of my hands. So, I just watched helplessly and suffered in silence as cruel lesbians bent my mother to their will.
Princess Bedrohlich took joy in watching me squirm and blush as I watched my kind, compassionate mother become a naked plaything. She decided that it would be fun to train my mother and me together so that I could constantly watch as my mother was abused and objectified.
My feelings of distress were exacerbated when it was announced that my mother and I would receive pony training.
In the Kingdom of Verborgen, pony training was an activity in which naked slaves were trained to gallop and trot and pull a cart. It was degrading and hard, physical labor.
The first time I saw a pony slave, it was something of a shock to my American sensibilities. I had been raised in the suburbs and led a sheltered life. Seeing a naked woman, bitted, harnessed and pulling a cart while a cruel driver whipped her hindquarters with a buggy whip made me cringe. Even at a glance, I could see her body was glistening with sweat, her muscles were straining, and her bit gag was forcing her to drool on herself.
Her overseers had cruelly robbed her of her dignity and reduced her an of object of abuse and endless toil.
So, I felt another cruel shock when I was informed that my mother and I were to be subjected to the same sort of suffering. I was then introduced to a Sidhe woman named Praefecta and told that she would be training me.
Praefecta was lean and severe looking, with impressive muscle tone. She wore a simple tunic that left her arms and legs exposed, making it easy to see her powerful thighs and calf muscles. Her hair was cut remarkably short for a Sidhe, and she wore no jewelry. Most of the Sidhe were like peacocks, decorating themselves with bright colors and gold jewelry, but Praefecta wasn't like that.
Her only accessory was the thin, snakelike whip that she carried with her everywhere she went. When you're a slave, whips, riding crops and paddles capture your attention easily and once spotted, you tend to fixate on them. You know how much they hurt, and you spend a great deal of time wondering how they'll be used on your naked flesh.
I was taken to a barnlike building to begin my training. Straw was heaped on the floors and there were stalls, the kind where you would keep horses.
There were bales of hay stacked up in a corner. Praefecta led me over there and ordered me to bend over and spread my legs.
"Wider than that," she snapped at me, then smacked my ass hard. I spread my legs until I could feel the strain in my inner thighs. She finally seemed satisfied with my stance and while I was in that vulnerable position, I felt her fingers prodding at my anus and trying to force it open.
"
Aaahhh,"
I gasped.
"Open up for me," Praefecta insisted, "I can pry you open by force if I have to, but you wouldn't like that. It's much better if you just relax your sphincter muscle and let me in voluntarily."
Praefecta's voice sounded cold and commanding, however she didn't force my anus open. Instead she massaged my bottom with one hand and pushed against my tight asshole with one lubricated finger of the other hand and patiently waited for me to overcome my fears and relax my sphincter enough to allow her fingers to slide into my tight anal cleft.
Slowly, gradually, Praefecta's finger slid into me. I whimpered and squirmed, but I didn't dare disobey her. I remained bent over and kept my legs spread wide.
Praefecta worked an excessively large amount of the lubricating gel into my anal orifice. It was cold at first, but the more she worked it into me, the more it warmed up.
It was explained to me that every pony-slave was made to wear a horsetail butt-plug. Praefecta oiled up my anus with copious amounts of lubricant so she could slide the plug into my ass with a minimum of fuss.
It was rare for my masters or mistresses to penetrate me anally. As a result, my anus was extremely tight, almost virginal, and I was nervous about having an anal plug shoved inside of me. My legs trembled as Praefecta worked her slick fingers inside.
The way I was bent over with my face down, it was hard to see, however I got a glimpse of the butt plug when Praefecta picked it up. From my vantage point the plug looked imposingly large. I was certain that it was too big to fit inside me.
Praefecta busied herself, greasing up the butt plug with even more lubricant. My legs trembled as I imagined my trainer trying to spear that thing inside of me. I was ordered to spread my legs even further apart and then I felt the tip of the well-lubricated butt plug as Praefecta tried to slip it in.
I whimpered and panted helplessly as it was pushed in, centimeter by centimeter opening my tight sphincter muscle wider and wider. It wasn't easy; however, Praefecta wasn't going to give up until she had forced the massive thing all the way in.
"You're still tensing up," she told me as she tried to force the thickness inside of me. "You need to relax."
I squirmed and moaned and wondered how the hell I was supposed to relax, then I felt Praefecta's fingertips glide gently across my moist, sensitive, swollen pubic lips.
"
Aaaaaaahh,"
