Male Chattel’s Exhausting Crawl
SexyLark aka Tasha Commissioned for Femdomosophy
“Crawl scum pig, crawl”
Mistress Savage emphasized the command by swiftly kicking her chattel’s testicles.
She snickered. He had never met another woman whose laughter tore his ego apart.
He scurried forward, hoping to escape another kick. A fool’s hope. During her months of ownership Mistress Savage never showed the least mercy.
Once she asked her slave what the word pity meant. Then laughed before he could answer.
Mistress Savage brought her male on a ‘nature’ walk.
“Crawl to the right.”
A whip speeded his obedience. She loved her whips. New scars covered old wounds.
He was surprised that she had not made him crawl through the deep dark green puddle.
Mistress Savage placed her foot on his head. Shoved his face down. Hours of crawling in the hot sun left him weak. He could not raise his head.
Stinking, rank mud and water flooded into his nostrils and mouth. Was this his last day? Would she drown him?
Her foot lifted. He fell on his side heaving, sucking in air.
More laughter. Months ago he had been a sensitive man. A gourmet, a wine connoisseur.
Now he ate disgusting slop. And drank …
“I need to pee.”
Rolling on his back, the man opened his mouth wide.
He was a woman’s pisspot.
“Crawl scum pig.”
Overheated, exhausted merely forcing himself to move was torture enough. Mistress Savage wanted more.
She lashed his scrotal sac. He hurried. Rocks and stones cut his hands and legs. His knees threatened to fail. But agony kept him moving.
At last, Mistress Savaged commanded:
“Home scum pig.”
Intelligence faded. Only desperation and pain remained. He dragged himself forward. Motion hurt. Slowly he shoved himself forward.
Dimly he heard his young Mistress Owner singing to herself. His filthy anguish cheered her.
Later in his filthy stall the slave slept. He dreamed of women singing a song about “The Scum Pig.” They beat and pissed on him.
Tomorrow was Mistress Savage’s birthday. Many Dommes were coming.