tilphil
Barefoot Slave
Life is full of demands and expectations. Having that taken away from you by a loving, caring owner can be very, very liberating.
And what is it with feet? Ah, well - the soles are a window to the soul. Tease and tickle, torture and torment - a skilled owner can use the feet of the slave to grant pleasure or pain, to care or to crush.
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Having your breath taken away from you is intense.
Humans experience breathing as automatic, as a right as a thing of nature.
Feeling that your breath is a gift given to you from your owner; feeling that your breath can be granted or taken - now, that goes a long way in deleting the human and shaping the slave.
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A wonderful description of how it needs considerable force to delete the human being and to resurrect it as a slave.
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Looks scary as hell but at the same time it looks so safe, so inviting. No awkward twisting and twitching. No ashamed closing of legs, no turning away. No embarrassing begging.
A mounted slave, offering free access to its owner - scary as hell and surprisingly liberating.
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Oh, I would love one of those!
A cosy place for my owner to keep me.
A safe place for my owner to mount me.
A secure place for my owner to discipline me.
What more could one want.
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Outdoorbondage is an intense sign of ownership.
We walk past the last houses, turn off the trodden path and my owner gently turns me round, secures my arms behind. I kneel down. Shoes and socks are taken and my bare feet shackled.
Sometimes and arm around my shoulders, sometimes my owner leads me by a leash to my collar.
We come to an old fallen tree. My owner unlocks a shackle and then ties up my foot. "See you later, love!" And moments later I am alone. I am locked in place, like a precocious toy. If a human being came along, I could do nothing but stand obediently in my place. At home I am usually secured. My hands in mittens or my arms locked away, my mouth spread or gagged, my feet shackled and chained. But outside, in public my enslavement feels much more intense. I am a slave for everyone to see.
I present my bare sole. I know that my owner will be back later with a fresh and subtle cane. I will kiss the cane before my sole is whipped crimson.
I wait. Safe. Secure. A thing locked into its place. I am a slave.
Outdoorbondage is an intense sign of ownership.
#slave#enslaved#barefoot#shackled feet#tied feet#chained#soles#foot torture#bastinado#falaka#outdoo#outdoorbondage
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It is an intense and a scary experience to offer my bare feet to my owner for execution.
Human beings 'make a stand'. Humans 'go the extra mile'. Standing upright, going, walking - all that is a very human thing to do. Having that taken away from me is intense.
Who controls my feet, controls my mind.
Who controls my soles, controls my soul.
A harsh Falaka puts me in my place, on hands and knees, looking up to my owner. I've marked my soles for execution. I am ready to be broken.
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The first warmer days ... my owner giving me a loving nudge: out!
We stroll up the hill, past the last houses. We turn off the path. A nudge. I turn around. My hands are secured. My owner takes my shoes and socks. I am wearing my shackles underneath. I get a short walking chain. A hug. A kiss.
"Meet you at the old gate by the railway line."
I gulp. That is a long way barefoot in shackles and chain. Another encouraging hug. I nod.
My owner walks of in long, firm human strides.
Deep breath. I shuffle of in careful, measured slave steps.
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Home!
Home from work. Free from the hustle and bustle of human life.
My owner hugs me. “You’re well?”
I nod. A long, loving kiss. “Do you need your mouth?”
I shake my head. “I do!” I get another kiss and then my owner gags me. “Do you need your arms?”
I shake my head. I turn. Backpack! My owner ties my writs to my elbows. It is comfortable. I am totally helpless.
My owner leads me to the comfy chair, helps me sit down. My socks come off. My owner shackles my feet. I am chained.
A hug. “Love you!” I snuggle up, safe, secure, loved, looked after, enslaved.
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The soles are a window to the soul.
A skilled, loving and caring owner can use the slaves feet to control the slave; mind and body.
It is scary as hell to freely offer the slave feet for execution but it is amazingly liberating to have them whipped to pulp. Every blow deep into the arch smashes the mind. Whipping the toes breaks the soul. With the feet executed the slave is on hands and knees; ready to serve, ready to be kept.
When with every step I do my feet hurt, I am reminded that my place is on my knees. Standing tall is for humans.
SLAVEPUPPY TORTURED ON FEET DAILY FOR HARD DISCIPLINE
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It is a harsh truth that it needs a firm Master to crush a boy and then to use the shards and fragments to put together a happy and content slave boy. Removing free will is like pulling a foul tooth - painful but liberating, saving even.
YOUNG SLAVEBOY ISOLATED AND WILL NEVER SAY NO AGAIN
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Offering the soles of your feet to your owner is scary and yet it is a privilege.
Human beings are expected to 'make a stand'. Humans 'go the extra mile'.
When your owner executes your feet, you are allowed to kneel. No great expectations. No demands or duties. Just being on hands and knees. Safe. Secure. Subdued.
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It is very, very scary and yet very, very liberating when your owner takes full control of your mouth.
You feel that a slave mouth is a tool. Opened, it serves your owner to lick or to speak or for relief. Closed it ensures silence.
A gag is a gift to learn to endure pain.
A spreader helps you to learn to serve.
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Nackte Sklavenfuesse im Gras.
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So good to be owned!
So good to be looked after and treasured.
@runnertied
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Giving myself up
Breath-control is intense. Giving away my life is intense. Hogtied in the bath, the 'drowning stick' is preventing me from turning over. Arching my back, I can gasp for air for a few short minutes but I swiftly feel that I cannot hold this long.
And then there is my owner's hand in my neck; gently but firm: holding me down. I struggle. In vain. I panic. My owner's hands calm me. Finally, finally I feel my owner's hand on my forehead. Gently I am lifted up. I am allowed three deep breaths. I thank my owner for my life. Gently I am forced down again.
After a few cycles, time has no meaning. I stop struggling. I let go. I breathe when my owner allows me to breathe. I live because my owner allows me to live.
I am free from struggles. I am animated property.
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Night, Night!
An older picture from when I was just learning to sleep with my hands tied. Can't say it was easy!
Learning to sleep with my feet shackled and chained - it had been two, three weeks before I finally slept through a night and then my owner tells me it had been two months before I finally slept still, submitting to my chain.
Learning to sleep with my hands tied back - it felt like I never would. Turning, tossing, twitching ... but I got there. Now usually I get into my pajama top before dinner. I get my hands tied and my owner feeds me. Snuggle time and then at bedtime I get my teeth brushed and get put to bed and chained.
Safe. Secure. Loved and looked after.
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