Some images created recently, and a cruel little story to link them:
ONE:
Convincing him she can be used as he wishes
There had been a long conversation. He had told her that his sexual needs were beyond her. That he needed to feel totally free to achieve a full orgasm; had to know that he had carte-blanche with a girl, so that if he felt like hitting her, or biting her nipples so as to leave a mark, or flipping her over and buggering her, he need not think twice about it.
She had stared at him, she had cried, she had feebly asked him questions, to which the answers had only become more distressing. She had tried to have an argument with him— he had simply refused; looked at her, serious, eyes fully on her, and shook his head. She had tried flouncing off, but he had simply let her go, and, an hour later, she had come to him in tears, hiccupping, thrown herself into his arms and said she was sorry.
He had lifted her, gently wiped her face with his tee-shirt, and said;
“It’s not your fault, pretty; I’m the monster; not you.”
But that afternoon, after a glorious walk in the May sunshine, after he had held her hand and picked flowers for her, she had decided to convince him that she could be used that way; that she wanted it. That she should be used that way; no holds barred.
He had not believed her. He’d smiled and caressed her, and made silly jokes so that she did not lose herself in tears.
Finally, though, she found that it was not him she had convinced, but herself. She had stripped herself, arranged herself, as lewdly as she knew how, shocking herself, on the blanket chest at the foot of the hotel bed, opened herself wide, and told him that it was she; she who wanted him to feel like that with her— to be totally free as to how he took his pleasure with her.
He had made her beg, and plead, but then, suddenly, he had taken her, and it had been astonishing; beyond anything.
After that, she had become his slave. First emotionally, but then, surprisingly quickly, physically, mentally, spiritually even; totally his.
TWO:
Degrading herself for him
The way he did it— he had told her it would be this way; it wasn’t a trick— the way he did it was that he would withold sex, until she thought of something which would degrade her further. If she did it prettily enough, if he could see that it got her hot (she had to show him that it was getting her hot; faking was not permitted— I need to know you really want this, pretty; that you want me to monster you), then— usually, at least; she could never be sure of him— he would go crazy with her; which was what she had come to need.
He had told her it would damage her.
And it did.
But somehow she didn’t care. She had to stop seeing her girlfriends, because they were threatening to do an intervention, shouting at her;
“He’s an abuser; he’s gaslighting you, he’s brainwashing you!”
“But it’s me that’s asking him for it— begging him”, she would reply.
But she knew they were right. It was him, really— he was doing this to her, and he wouldn’t stop until she was totally his; until she had lost any hope or belief in herself as an independent person, worthy of any respect or dignity.
She knew it.
And she couldn’t make herself care, couldn’t make herself not want it.
He had told her, at the opera, one evening, in the interval, that he had decided that she might be a girl who could be ’taken all the way’. That he considered it was possible that she might be brought to the point where she had lost herself so completely that she might allow him to sell her to a stranger, in full confidence that she would accept her new position, however degrading; accept and obey her new master, however cruel— that, if she would ask him to do that to her, one day, he was prepared to do it; turn her into something prepared to give up on its own humanity.
So she ditched her girlfriends, cut off ties with everyone, in the end. So that he could destroy her.
So that they could do it together.
THREE:
She can still be sassy
He took it slowly, though;
“I’m going to enjoy taking you down, reducing you. Like a fine wine, it won’t do to rush it.”
It was a terrible thing to say to her. But then, that was most of their relationship, now— talking together about where he wanted her to go next, her being appalled, him being amused. Then weeks, often, of more talking about it; her asking questions, him laughing at her mostly, occasionally saying terrible, cold and cruel things to her in his calm serious voice— so that she knew these terrible things were real, and in her future.
For the longest while she was capable of pushing back at him, even when displaying herself like this for him and two of his friends, all three of whom will later gang-bang her, introducing her for the first time to the sensation of being invaded by three hot male cocks, all going at her as roughly as they can. She could be feisty, despite her wanton pose, but that all ended when she had been brought to accept that whippings would be daily, and nothing to do with punishment, but with destroying her self-image.
All back-talk stopped, then.
She became pathetically eager to please, servile, totally emotionally dependent, her sexual arousal on a hair trigger.
It was appalling, but she liked her new self better; Maybe if I try really hard to be what He wants me to be, someone really might offer to buy me.
FOUR:
Ringed
The piercing had been an incredibly powerful thing. Strange— it wasn’t really much more painful or serious than having her ears pierced; if the ring was removed, the holes would heal up in a year or so, the man in the body art parlour had told her.
But the size of the fat ring, its weight, that way she felt it all the time, the way it reminded her— as he had told her it would— that she was now nothing really, apart from her utility as a sex toy, a fuck-bunny.
It defined her.
She found herself driven to show it as often as possible, as soon as possible to anyone new. It saved so many words. As soon as people saw it, they knew that she wasn’t a real person, not really— just something to be fucked or hurt, ordered about.
FIVE:
Finery for the auction
Some intricate body jewellery. A light chain, hung from her collar, supports a steel rod, from each end of which a strong but thin spring links to fine chains linked to either end of long pins piercing her areolae. The chain from her neck can be shortened, so that her breasts are noticeably lifted by the nipples. The sping ensures that, as she moves around, the weight of her breasts causes eye-catching jiggles. A chain hangs down from her nipples, joining them. A leash attached to this chain guarantees eager and attentive following.
It hurts.
He has told her she will wear this when she is auctioned.
That the man who seems keenest on bidding for her;
“You know, the one who whips you between the legs before doing your ass..”
That he will have her branded ;
“.. like an animal,” he had told her; smiling cheerfully as he toyed with the dog-tags which now hung from her pussy, hurting her intentionally, testing her ability to hold her pose.
I love this story, as indeed I love all your stories. My only kvetch, and it is a tiny one, is that I want MORE of it!
That's a great thing to hear - thank you.
I write when I can, when it's the thing to do. There's as much of it as there is.
WOW!!! This Type of Tale is NEW and Interesting!!! A Sex-Slavery-Speed-Run. Cruel, Brief and Fast, Yet hitting ALL The Intricate little Bullet Points with Razor Sharp Clarity!!! A Sexy NEW Format in THW's Growing Erotic Arsenal. Happy to see where this leads.....
Thank you!
As with the rest of the world, THW is being astonished by what can achieved done with AI tools.
A typical progress towards a desired image starts with something relatively vanilla, and takes multiple iterations to arrive at something specific.
This lends itself naturally to 'progression' stories (typically tens of intermediate images are generated as part of the process).
Video is also taking leaps and bounds. Look forward to new images on Odile 13 that will blow your minds.
I very much enjoy these psychologically interesting stories in which the dominant man does not force the female - simply seize it and use it - rather, it is manipulated (sometimes more, sometimes less) into submitting and degrading itself…shedding its inhibitions in order to gain his approval…demanding he accept its proofs of its devotion and service…in many respects this is the essence of the true alpha’s approach to consensual slavery…the female senses the strength of the strong man…wants him…he doesn’t need to play games…he tells it explicitly what the terms of its involvement with him would be…and that the terms are all or nothing…in for a penny in for a pound…that submission is unconditional…
Thank you! Very nicely put. I say somewhere in the about page or something that these stories do not come from a place of misogyny. Some of the male protagonists are definitely misogynistic, but I hope the stories make it clear that it is the response of the female protagonists to that which is interesting to me - not the misogyny.`
And in the ideal world, yes, two individuals come together with compatible needs and demands.
Again, I suppose what interests me is the compromises people are willing to make when what's on offer is not ideal; when the dominant is much harsher than the (usually latent) submissive can accept, but nevertheless offers something which cannot easily be found elsewhere. When the submissive (especially those latent ones) has to be handled with extreme skill , to bring her to a place where the compromise seems desirable, despite its cost.
The price of those compromises is the constant subject matter here. Of course, it is typically the submissive who pays.a price of pain, while the dominant pays a price of time (and often money, too).
All relationships are bound up in power disparities - real and imagined..which may not be the same, hierarchies of conscious and subconscious needs, self-awareness, intelligences of several kinds, and even - to steal the language of economics, the availability of substitutes which could/would meet those needs at varying ‘prices’.
As you put it well…to bring a submissive to a place where what the alpha requires is desirable despite the cost…you could even go further (as I think your stories sometimes do) and say bringing it to a place where it isn’t even compromise because the need is so strong it physically and emotionally overwhelms any sense that it is doing anything other than what its own nature impels it to do to fulfill its need….which i suppose is a fair description of what happens with O in The Story of O…