Slave Man’s Life of Hard Labor & Pain
Mistress Engels’ sadism is subtler than dungeons and racks. Transitory agony is a shallow game. Men must feel deeper misery. Unceasing anguish. To her, the epithet ‘heartless’ is a term of honor.
She opens her eyes and smiles every morning. She anticipates the pleasures each new day afford her.
Before breakfast she starts her slave on his first task. Bringing a second cup of coffee, she returns and urges him on.
Mistress Owner chided him daily. Strokes of the lash reinforced exhortations.
Her need for physical labor was scant. Her desire to see men sweat and strain, strong.
Mistress Owner enjoys seeing a man obey. It is a pleasure. Proof of her power and authority. Seeing him labor is a delight. She watches for the twitches of overstrained muscles.
There is no reward for toil. Mere males obey. It is their purpose and duty. Women owe the inferior gender nothing.
She weighted the man’s legs. He labors longer. His work is tedious. Drudgery and boredom, nothing is more potent. The enslaved man repeatedly confronts his impotence and insignificance.
She mocks his struggles. Mistress Owner treats all men with contempt and impatience.
“Lazy creature. Men are weak. Pathetic scum. Hurry!”
She punches and kicks the man. Yanks his hair. Lashes his scrotal sac. He weeps. Involuntary, futile tears.
Scar forms over scar. His body is a patchwork of old and new welts.
Once she ordered him to clean the walls of a room with a toothbrush. He fell asleep repeatedly. Electric shocks revived him.
His life is labor and pain. Anguish and toil.
He lives without love or kindness. Mistress Owner’s smiles are those of a predator.
His one release is sleep. She allows him rest only to prolong his suffering.
She does not believe he has a soul. What Goddess would allow males eternal existence? She is satisfied to crush his purely mortal spirit.