The following story is a sadistic FANTASY, AND A COMPLETE WORK OF FICTION! It depicts acts of sadistic violence against the helpless and sexual situations. In REAL LIFE, I DO NOT CONDONE violence against the helpless in any way, shape, or form! BDS&M play should always be SAFE, SANE, & CONSENSUAL!
The great thing about working at home is that I can wear whatever the fuck I want to. I was dressed in my black leather pants and bra, and had just paid our last bill for the month and it was time to relax.
I rolled some Raspberry Kush, lit the joint, sat back in my office chair, comfortably crossed my ankles in front of Oscar’s tortured face, and took a long satisfying drag. Yes, our newest crippled resident, Oscar, was still decorating my accent cabinet from the neck up. We'd tied him up and stuffed him in the cabinet as soon as he arrived, a week earlier.
My husband, Hans, and I own a house for physically disabled adults. Because we're independently wealthy, we don't charge the state to house these lovelies. Since the state doesn't pay for their room & board, they don't inspect our facilities. The arrangement allows us to do what we want with our residents. This works for us, since we're sadists, we've made them our slaves.
We have two types of slaves, limpers and droolers. Hans and I chose labels which would diminish their self-esteem as much as possible. Limpers are mildly disabled; their bodies are weak and a few of their limbs are spastic and unusable. These slaves are fed thin unsweetened oatmeal in the morning and unseasoned boiled kale each evening. It's a spartan diet, but it keeps them alive enough to do the housework, all the housework. Sure, it takes them five times longer than it would take Hans, or myself, to do each chore, but watching them sweat and struggle is half the fun.
Droolers, on the other hand, are cripples who can't use their bodies in any significant way. They can move their heads, wiggle a bit, and some can talk. Because they can't work, they're not fed every day. Most of the droolers are left on the floor, where they can be stepped on. We'll let one or two of these eat stale bread off the floor and lick water off our feet or boots each day. They're the lucky droolers.
The unlucky droolers are subjected to some ongoing form of torture for our sadistic amusement. These slaves are chosen at random, to make it completely unfair, and are only fed IV nutrition spiked with stimulants and Viagra to increase their level of suffering.
Oscar was one of the unlucky droolers. We tied him up and stuffed him in the cabinet so that all his weight rested on the tips of his kneecaps, causing him constant agonizing pain. The cherry on top was the dental damn we made him wear. Not only did it cause his jaw continual pain by not allowing his mouth to close, but I enjoyed watching his tongue wag back and forth in complete frustration.
I wiggled my toes in his face as a silent command to do the only thing he's good for, and he began licking the soles of my beautiful feet. Having my feet kissed and licked is a Luxury. Having them kissed and licked by someone who's COMPLETELY helpless and at my mercy sends chills of pleasure throughout my entire body, making me extremely wet.
I closed my eyes and began fingering myself. The only thing that would improve the moment would be to inflict some, undeserved, pain. I satisfied the urge by emotionally torturing Oscar just for fun, my fun.
"You're such a worthless piece of shit, you really are. Of course, all cripples are worthless wastes of space. The only thing you’re good for is amusing the beautiful people, like me and Hans. Otherwise, they might as well abort you at birth." I took another long drag of my joint. Seeing the maggot start to cry gave me extra pleasure as the weed relaxed me. I never felt my day was complete unless I made the fucker cry.
I'm not a religious girl mind you, but as if a gift from God, one of our male limpers crawled in and knelt beside me with his head bowed respectfully.
"What the fuck do you want you ugly piece of shit?" I said.
"I've finished all my really hard work Misthressth Ava, stho I wanted to sthee if you wanted anysthing more," he said. He had a mop of unkempt dirty blond hair, which hung over his unshaven face, and his ribcage was clearly visible from hunger. His abject misery was beautiful.
It wasn’t enough for Hans and me to have everything, we wanted our slaves to have nothing. We truly enjoyed depriving them of any possible source of happiness, joy, and hope for the future. Crushing their spirits under our feet, and turning them into miserable tortured slaves was a pastime we never grew weary of.
"Done already?" I said. "Sounds like I didn't give you enough hard work to do."
"I began after morning meal yesttherday, worked sthrough evening meal and sthleep period stho I could pleasthe you Misthressth Ava," he said.
I laughed. "You sound like such a stupid retard when you talk," I said just to be cruel. Then I was hit with a sadistic flash of brilliance, and decided to torture the last few threads of his dignity and self-respect. "Kiss my leather pants while I talk to you," I said. "You can help me... educate my newest play thing." In reality, there was no reason for Oscar to understand anything. I was going to do whatever I wanted to do to him, whether he understood anything, or not. Nevertheless, it was a good excuse to emotionally torture this piece of trash and have some fun.
"Yesth Misthressth Ava," he said as he bent forward and began lovingly kissing my strong perfect calves. As cruel as I was to him, his kisses conveyed genuine love for his mistress. It made what I was about to do all the more cruel. Punishing them for misbehavior was fun, but torturing the crippled pukes, when they didn't deserve it was a real blast! "What are you?" I said.
The limper cocked his head and said, "Misthressth Ava?"
I kicked him in the face, sending him toppling backwards onto the floor. "What are you?" I said.
He (I didn't know, or care, what his named was) scrambled back to his knees and resumed kissing my leather clad leg as poor Oscar continued to lick my feet. "I'm a worthless piecthe of dog shthit Misthressth Ava."
"That's true," I said. "I can't argue with that. But, I was thinking more basic. What are you?"
He thought hard. "I'm your sthlave Misthressth Ava."
"That's right," I purred as I ran my big toe up & down the bridge of his nose. He gulped, in obvious discomfort, but he knew enough not to move. "You're my slave. And, as my slave, what rights do you have?"
He chuckled nervously. "Good one Misthressth Ava," he finally said.
"What's funny?" I said sternly.
The smile left his face, and he bowed his head quickly. "Pleasthe forgive me Misthressth Ava I sthought you were making a funny joke Misthressth Ava."
"Why the fuck would you think I was joking?" I said. "Do I ever joke with fucking sub-human shit stains, like you?"
"I'm your sthub-human sthlave, Misthressth Ava. Sthlaves have no rightsth Misthressth Ava," he said, cringing in fear.
I moved my toe from his nose to his cheek, and stroked his face slowly. "Good answer," I said. "And, what's your job as my slave?"
"To do everysthing you and Masthter Hans tell me to do, and only what you and Masthter Hans tell me to do, Misthressth Ava."
"You’re just full of good answers today, " I said. I put my toe in his mouth, and he, obediently, began to suck it. There was love in his groveling. "And, what do I owe you for such total devotion?"
"Nothing Misthressth Ava," he said. "You give me food out of kindness Misthressth Ava, but you don't owe me anysthing. I'm your sthlave Misthressth Ava, I stherve you becausthe I love you Misthressth Ava."
Oh, this was too precious, too perfect. Hurting cripples, who couldn't defend themselves was fun, but torturing one, who loved me, would be an absolute pleasure. I had to do it just right though, to make sure to cause him the most emotional pain possible, maximizing my pleasure. "Tell me why you love me," I said.
"Misthressth Ava, you are beautiful, sthmart, and sthtrong. Everysthing about you is perfect Misthressth Ava."
"Even though, I don't love you?" I said.
"Yesth Misthressth Ava," he said, through a pout while fighting back tears.
"Tell me why I don't love you."
"Please Misthressth Ava."
I picked up a whip from my desk and cracked it right on his shoulder. "Tell me!" I ordered.
He cringed in fear, which is exactly what I wanted. "I'm weak, ugly, crippled, stthupid, and completely worsthless. Sthere isth nosthing about me to love Misthressth Ava." Bingo, there were the tears, and not just a trickle either, but the big crocodile kind. It was wonderful, but it wasn’t enough. "I'm justht lucky you let me be your sthlave."
"As long as you understand that it's not because you’re special in any way," I took pleasure in saying. "Nobody will ever love you. The most you'll ever be is something for, actual people, to use, like an old rancid dish towel. Nobody will ever really care about you though."
His pathetic body quivered with forlorn misery as he leaned forward and kissed my calves again. "Yesth Misthressth Ava," he said, and kept kissing me. "I'm nosthing. Thank you for letting me live here Misthressth Ava."
Hearing his empty belly growl as he groveled in total sorrow began to make me orgasmically wet. "Of course, you can live here, for as long as you are a good worker. The minute you’re no longer useful, we'll take you downtown with jeans and a t-shirt, and turn you loose." His eyes widened with fear. I laid it on thick. "You might survive for a few months by picking food out of the trash and giving blow jobs for meth, but you'll eventually become too sick to give decent head, so you'll go through really painful withdrawal and die alone under a bridge somewhere."
He began kissing my leg harder and faster. "Pleasthe Misthressth Ava," he said between kisses. "I'll be ustheful, you'll sthee. I'll be a good sthlave, a hard-working sthlave, obedient sthlave."
"Really?" I said. "You'll obey me, no matter what?"
"Yesth Misthressth Ava," he said. "No matter what."
"I see," I said, licking my mental lips. "Lay on your back and spread your legs."
"Yesth Misthressth Ava," he said. My slave's body shook as he lowered himself to the floor and spread his legs wide.
A truly evil smile crept across my lips as I stood and held my foot above his crotch. He was totally; obedient, submissive, and loyal; and I was about to torture him just for fun. But, I wanted him to squirm first. "I'm going to step on your cock and balls," I said. "And, I'm going to make it hurt. I want you to stay still, knowing it will hurt, knowing I will show you absolutely no mercy, and let me do it."
"Yesth Misthressth Ava," he said oh so sweetly. It was delicious.
I brought my foot down hard and fast, trapping his cock and balls between my sole and his pelvis. He produced a wonderfully entertaining scream as his upper body shot straight up, hung there and crashed back to the floor. I lost my breath and my eyes started to water from laughing so hard. Keeping my foot on their target, I shifted all my weight onto that foot and twisted it back and forth to grind his male parts into his pelvic bone.
He banged his head repeatedly on the floor, obviously in excruciating pain. Yet, he never spoke, after the initial scream. Loyally, the little shit stayed there, and let me torture him for as long as I wanted. I came as sheer agony filled his penis, testicles, pelvis, and lower gut. I had such fun seeing him suffer. He didn't deserve it. It was like torturing a loyal little puppy. Lord, it was so fucking fun! I came in my pants again. They were such scrumptious orgasms I about lost my mind.
After my fourth climax, I fell into my chair sweaty and exhausted. Anticipating my needs, the limper fought through the pain, rose to his knees, took a new joint from a box on my desk, steadied his crippled hand as much as possible before placing the spliff between my lips, and handed me my lighter. He would've lit it himself, but the palsy in his fingers wouldn't let him strike the wheel and hold the button.
I smoked for a while, ignoring the mass of pain kissing my perfect feet. Without a word, I stood and walked to my closet. His eyes asked if he should follow me. I snapped and pointed to the floor. He bowed his head and waited silently for me on his knees.
A moment later, I was locking a black leather collar, adorned with chrome studs, around his neck and attaching a silver leash. "From now on, your name is Toad, and you'll be my personal slave twenty-four seven three hundred and sixty fucking five."
He smiled.
I slapped the back of his head hard enough to send him lurching forward. "Wipe that fucking smile off your piss drinking face!" I barked. "This isn't some kind of reward." Actually, it was a reward in a way. Even though I'd tortured him, without mercy, he'd remained remarkably loyal. "You'll do EVERYTHING for me from now on.
You will wash me, dry me, help dress me, brush my hair, paint my toenails, fetch me whatever I want, drink my piss, clean my ass after I shit and do anything else I tell you to. You will kiss my feet the minute I wake up and crawl behind me all day on your leash, close enough to smell my heels.
After I go to bed, you will clean the master bathroom, make sure my robe and towels are ready for the next morning, and wash my clothes by hand before you may sleep on the floor next to our bed in case Master Hans, or I, want anything during the night.
Unlike, your fellow limpers you will not be guaranteed meals. If there are scraps left after I eat, you may eat them off the floor. If there are no scraps left after I eat then you're just out of luck, and neither Master Hans, nor I, will care.
“Do you understand?"
Toad nodded and kissed each of my toenails. "I love you Misthressth Ava."
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