Slave Man Broken by Isolation
“You are no longer a man. Nor a human. You are a thing.”
Myles had served Mistress Portia for two years. Chastity, chores, corporal punishment and bondage satisfied his deep need to be used by a superior, a woman.
When a young woman, Mistress Portia read and memorized the Femdomosophic Fragments. Converted to female supremacy, she ceased to see men as potential romantic partners. She sought slaves, not lovers.
Myles came to her innocent and needy. Hungry for her cruelty. He submitted fully to her authority.
She taught Myles to never question. Never hesitate. He learned to respond instantly to every command.
Myles’ thankfulness for slavery never dimmed. The center of his universe, Mistress Portia was the object of unstinted adoration.
No God nor Goddess has ever been more deeply worshiped.
Devoted servitude was not enough. Mistress Portia wanted more from Myles.
Her home is a converted church. A tiny stone-walled chamber is one of the architectural anomalies.
One morning she led Myles to the chamber’s wooden door. Took him in.
She chained his ankles and wrists. Superfluous bondage emphasizing helplessness.
“Do not speak until given permission.”
The door slammed leaving Myles alone in darkness. The naïve slave thought isolation a punishment. What sin had he committed? Mistress Portia often disciplined him before he learned his offense.
Maybe isolation was a new form of sadistic play. A game. She always won these games. But that was her right.
Silent isolation toys with a prisoner’s imagination. Brings out fears. Myles faith in Mistress Portia weakened. He felt ashamed of this impiety.
Unknown hours later, Mistress Portia stood at the door’s barred window. She smiled then vanished.
For the first time Myles felt hungry. He quickly became parched and ravenous.
Minutes and hours were indistinguishable.
The slave feared he would be starved to death. Terror and hunger caused Myles to shiver uncontrollably. .
Mistress Portia opened the door. Saying nothing, she started whipping Myles. Tears did nothing to stem the force of her whip. Torn skin bled. He shrieked and collapsed.
Myles awoke to find what looked like stew poured on the floor and a bowl of piss. Consuming both, he again passed out.
The cycle continued for an eternity. Myles cringed on seeing Mistress Portia. Looking in her slave’s eyes, she saw only desolation.
She had stripped him of hope. His days passed in fear. Pain replaced satisfaction.
Eventually she released Myles. Physical freedom did not ameliorate his fear of Mistress Portia. Often he wept for no reason. He could not come near to his Mistress Owner without groveling.
Ravaging her slave’s soul, breaking his mind and heart, gave her the greatest pleasure.
Having never been given permission, Myles suffers in eternal silence.