Date: Sat, 2 Apr 2011 13:05:52 -0700 (PDT)
From: Vincent Vincent <not_your_typical_master@yahoo.com>
Subject: Penance - Chapter 13

First, the basics:

This is a work of fiction.  Those who are underage or for any other reason
should not be reading sexually explicit material, close this window.
Copyright 2011.  Any praise, criticism, or comments are to be sent to me:
Not_your_Typical_Master@yahoo.com

Enjoy!

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

December 13th

YOU have found a new, less traumatic, means of having YOUR bitches stay
always alert, never complacent, eternally competing for YOUR pleasure.
Thank YOU so much for showing new ways to keep YOUR tribe on its toes.

This morning YOU walked around, assigning numbers to all YOUR bitches
except the one on gloryhole duty.  YOU explained that these numbers, 1
through 5, were based upon the pleasure and dutiful service YOU had
received in the past weeks.  YOUR ratings were completely subjective and
could not be questioned, especially with each of YOUR bitches' mouths kept
locked.

First YOU instructed 1 & 2 to lock the wrists of 4 and 5 in cuffs.  The
cuffs were locked to spreader bars and the bars hoisted up by YOUR winch
toward the ceiling.  The two locked servants were side by side.  YOU raised
them up until their mouths were at the height of YOUR chest.

YOU then instructed how their ankles were to be similarly cuffed and tied
tightly to their nuts.  The weight of their legs now hung from their sore
and swollen balls unless they used their thigh muscles to keep their legs
from hanging.

YOU then allowed are a rare joy.  1 and 2 were YOUR top-performing bitches.
1 had the option of either worshipping YOUR cock for hours, or fucking
number 3 with a real live cock instead of the dildo hanging from its
chastity cage.  Number 2 would get the option number 1 did not pick.
Number 1 chose to fuck.

YOU unlocked the rings from the mouths YOUR whores.  YOU stood in front of
the two lowest-ranking suckholes and demanded YOUR nipples and pits
worshipped as number 2 slowly made love to YOUR massive cock.  Number 1
fucked number 3 as YOU watched.

YOUR two hanging sluts moaned as their legs became heavier and heavier.
There was agony in their wrists, shoulders, thighs and nuts as they hung
there, time dragging ever more slowly as they showed their appreciation by
gently flicking their tongues across YOUR beautiful chest and sucking the
dried sweat from YOUR delicious pits.  YOU demanded YOUR cocksucker slowly
worship YOUR meat and not rush to YOUR orgasm, increasing the torture for
YOUR two loser bitches.  Their moans of agony and pleasure in being allowed
the taste of YOUR flesh became more insistent.  The tears from their eyes
eventually mixed with the salt of YOUR skin as they licked and swallowed.
YOU merely stood there enjoying the three tongues that were gently coaxing
and massaging YOUR pleasure.

Once number 1 had cum inside number 3, their tongues were added to YOUR
joy.  Number 1 was allowed to lick YOUR full and fragrant balls while
number 3 was told to french-kiss YOUR asshole.  YOU just softly sighed and
enjoyed the ride of YOUR harem's tongues making sweet love to YOU,
listening to the music of everyone's moans: those of three bitches in
delirious pleasure and two others in wrenching agony.  All in worship of
YOU.

After what seemed like hours, YOU finally gave permission for YOUR
cocksucker to make YOU cum.  But, as always, YOU added a twist of cruelty
-- YOUR suckbitch was no longer allowed to suck YOU off, but only to beg an
orgasm from YOUR prick by licking it.  YOUR two chest-worshippers sobbed
upon hearing YOUR command.

Knowing the agony two of YOUR cuntfaces were bearing, YOUR cocksucker slid
its tongue under YOUR foreskin at the crown and slid its tongue back and
forth, continually licking the most sensitive part of YOUR erection.  YOU
chuckled softly and moaned YOUR pleasure to 10 hungry ears.  Each of YOUR
fagwhores was working furiously to grant YOU the orgasm YOU so generously
allowed, but it took about 15 minutes for the task to be accomplished.

As YOU shot, YOU pulled back, spraying YOUR cuntface.  Once YOU finished,
YOU suggested that its face be cleaned by YOUR hanging faggots, granting
them the reward of YOUR seed for their agony.  They whipped their tongues
across YOUR bitch's seeded face, cleaning it in moments.  YOU then
permitted their ankles and wrists to be unlocked, ending their torture.

And then, as always, came the final blow.  The servant who was allowed to
cum, number 1, would now be dildo-fucking anyone or anything YOU wished to
see being fucked.  From now until the next evaluation, number 1 would go
through the frustration of fucking without pleasure, repeatedly tormenting
its locked cock.

And the next evaluation could be days, weeks, months, years from now.
There was no way to know.

Lord, thank YOU so much for allowing such a generous means of keeping YOUR
tribe focused on YOUR pleasure, for forcing continual competition for YOUR
pleasure and not permitting any laziness or slack in the worship of YOU.
The worship of YOUR tribe's fucking God.  As it is imprinted on all of YOUR
congregation's flesh.




December 28th

Thank YOU for YOUR ever-deepening desire to eradicate what shreds of
identity remain within YOUR tribe of worshippers.

YOU had already "suggested" that YOUR minions all shave their heads to be
more uniform in appearance.  YOU stated YOUR desire for bodies to be kept
unshaved to create a more animalistic, primal appearance.  And YOU
explained how goatees should be kept full and thick because YOU like, as
YOU stated, "furry cunts."

And, of course, YOUR lackeys strived to please YOUR every wish.  But YOU,
being GOD, demanded more.

YOU arrived to YOUR home one evening last week with six black fabric hoods.
"Happy holidays!" you announced.  Very elastic fabric, they fit snugly over
YOUR suckwhore's heads, a hole hemmed out to frame the mouth, nostrils, and
chin.  The rest of each of YOUR suckwhores' faces are now completely
encased, completely erased, in black fabric.

The most interesting thing is the treatment for the eyes.  The fabric is
sheer enough that it doesn't hamper one's vision ... but for anyone looking
at the slave ... there's no face, no expression .... Just a locked set of
lips.

This means there is no longer any kind of visual communication between YOUR
faggots.  No eye contact.  No winks, no eye movement to indicate direction.
It was a very subtle thing, but even this is now gone.  YOUR worshippers
are even more becoming strangers to each other.  There is no longer even a
sense of "we" or "us" .... There is only YOU.  There is nobody, nothing
here but YOU and what is YOURS. What YOU own.  What YOU use and exploit.

YOU have explained that these hoods are to be worn at all times except
during daily hygiene, which is done when YOU are away at work.  So even
when just around the rest of YOUR crew, there are no longer faces to be
seen.  Just anonymous bodies, each declaring YOU to be their fucking GOD.
Thank YOU so much for this life spent in devout adoration of YOU.

Thank YOU also for allowing this journal to be used ... both to express
feelings and to read about the feelings of others.  Reading the beginning
of this document, there is of course curiosity about the first writer, the
one who was being punished for the audacity of self-pleasure while being
used by YOU.  Which one of YOUR tribe was this man?  Is he still here, or
was he sent away to this mysterious "compound?"  There's no way to know, of
course.  No way to ask with locked lips.  And no way to tell when YOUR
entire tribe looks so similar.  There is a range of ages, of course ... but
it's impossible to nail down a specific age, or even to say only one could
be that age.

LORD, YOU have no need to answer.  GOD has better things to do.  This is
simply a matter of emptying a stupid brain for YOUR inspection.  Thank YOU
for allowing this opportunity to be stripped naked, both outside and
inside, for YOUR inspection and amusement.  Thank YOU for being splayed
like a butterfly, pinned to a page for display.  Thank YOU for stripping
away any sense of identity, any possibility of being anyone or anything but
YOURS.  There is no "me" here.  And that freedom is indescribable ... a
sense of belonging ... both in the sense of being owned, and in the sense
of finding a place where everything fits just right.  GOD, YOU have created
this sensation in a way that nobody else could.  Thank YOU, Thank YOU, oh
GOD THANK YOU!!!



January 15th

Thank YOU, LORD, for providing the structure to serve YOU well.  YOU create
an environment where each of YOUR minions quietly goes about making YOUR
every desire real, where all of YOUR worshipping bitches can focus solely
on YOUR happiness, hoping to inspire on of YOUR smiles.

The days are spent taking care of washing/cleaning ... of YOUR home and of
YOUR slaves.  YOUR laundry is taken care of, washed, dried, ironed, folded,
put away.  YOUR bed is lovingly made, YOUR home is kept immaculate.
Cleanliness and GODliness.  Any errands YOU'VE mentioned, either directly
or with a note, are taken care of.  All without YOUR minions speaking to
each other, even when mouths are unlocked, out of respect to YOU.  If one
has taken the list of groceries, then everyone else knows that chore is
being accomplished. When the dryer goes off, everyone starts toward the
machine, but whoever's there first takes care of it.  In the afternoon, one
of us starts preparing a salad for YOU and others look at the recipe for
YOUR dinner that was selected prior to getting groceries, and soon everyone
works silently in concert to serve YOU.  It was very chaotic at first, but
routine has created a system where, like a human body, each of YOUR lackeys
 work together, like hands and feet with YOU as the brain.

Everyone knows that laziness will not be tolerated.  That any or all of
YOUR stupid fuckwhores can be replaced or disposed of at any time.  And so
everyone toils for YOUR contentment and happiness.  To live without a
Master, an Owner, a God, is to endure a living death.  YOU are so
profoundly needed.

And everyone has learned the torment of feeling useless when not serving
YOU.  A feeling of having no purpose, no way to show all that is felt
inside.  It is at these times when this journal is useful ... to quietly
serve YOU by emptying out the mental and emotional guts YOU have so
carefully formed.  To spill on paper all that is felt for YOU.

Thank YOU, always thank YOU, for creating this life of adoration and fear,
of sublime pleasure and constant torment, of ecstatic pleasure and
exquisite pain ... all for YOUR enjoyment, amusement, and exploitation.
Thank YOU for YOUR sadism, thank YOU for your arousal.

And, of course, thank YOU for YOUR soft, subtle smile.  The only validation
YOUR addicts can hope to be worthy of.