Deep Down in the Depths of Servitude

After the party finally ended, I was switched back to watching the girls, mostly of me again being featured in the faux films. By this time my mental condition begins having issues keeping events chronological. These Dominants who are determining my fate would never allow the pleasures I was having from watching the girls just noted without countering it with pain and suffering. They administer this torture in different ways. One way was creating stretches of time where I was just left there to dwell on my plight with zero stimulation, it was sole torturing.

I’d rather physical abuse over dormancy. It is why I welcomed it when they resume torturing me after idle times, even if it was isolated to my cock and my butt. I received all kinds of electro hits. Some sustained ones and some repeated short hits, both which lifted me off the cot the small amount it allows my arching body to move. There were also high intensity dancing rhythms that yield mostly pain intermixed with bits of pleasure as it runs up and down. Other shocks felt like pins jabbing me. I’m not sure how they knew when I moved my bowels, but they would lite up my ass after each time I went. Thank goodness that wasn’t but maybe once a day.

They would attack my cock, then hit my ass, then back and forth again and again.  They seem to know if I am falling asleep as they zap me back awake. Either they have some automatic sleep detection system wired in or someone is always watching me. If they were watching, that would be comforting.

As I said, physical torture was welcome as it helped me focus on reality. What was unwelcome and the toughest to take is when the masters added mental anguish videos to counter their sexual arousing playlist. They did this through a particularly familiar horror video. On my first visit to their dungeon, they played a nasty trick on me. They tied my hands behind my back, walked me to a real functioning gallows, tested it in front of me with sand bags, put a leather hood over my head, walked me up the steps, tied my legs and put a noose around my neck  all the while talking to me, saying things that convinced me that I was about to die. The lever was pulled, floor went out below me and I dropped for a millisecond until the elaborate failsafe system allowed me to continue downward without harm where I was caught and applauded. A frightful pretend hanging that I got to revisit through their filming.

All fun and games. But up to the time I was dropping, oh so real. The video of that event is now being shown on my screen. Each time I see it I get chills. So, it runs, I have seen it before, yet it still gives me the willies.  But… then there is a change. As the lever is pulled, I now drop until the rope pulls taught and starts to strangle me. I am hanging by my neck. No safety system activated, no one catching me. I am being hung. I am swinging from my neck. I am struggling but I can’t do anything. It’s not like those fake on-line hanging scenes where their legs are swinging all over and they struggle and struggle and it’s obvious that their weight is being supported off screen. This seems very, very real. I know it’s not; I’m watching it. But again, it is so real, so well done. It is horribly frightening. Horrific. Gruesome. It’s me.

I know it’s a doctored film, just like the one of me fucking the bound girl, AI film mastering at work. It must be. But it is so real, so real, so real looking. I watch me trying to save myself, but the movements are minimal. You can’t do much when hanging by your neck, with hands tied behind your back, legs and ankles tied too. There is a little arm struggle and some trying to pull up my legs, but I can’t. This type of hanging is by pure strangulation, not neck snapping, so it takes a few minutes. My naked dying body voids itself for all to see. I watch myself pass away as my slowly swinging corpse becomes still. I’m so shocked. So realistic. It doesn’t matter if I know this isn’t real, emotions take over. I well up and tears stream down my face, being bound I can’t wipe them away. My already fragile state of being is collapsing.

I see my killers in the video, their faces blurred out so that they are not identifiable. They climb the scaffold and cut me down, catching my limp body as it falls. My body is laid down on the platform and the hood removed showing an ashen gray/blue face with my eyes wide open  They haven’t blurred my face. They then take turns fucking my ass with my arms and legs still tied. I’m shaking as I watch them abuse my corpse.

I can barely tell that they have been shocking my ass and dick as I watched for the first time.

A lot of effort had to go into creating this frightful film. Somebody knew what they were doing. And to get the value out of their effort that they put into it, they begin to run it again and again and again. I try not to watch, keeping my eyes closed tight, but I keep turning back to it. Wow. Big impact mentally on me. And with me buried, it takes on a new meaning, I’m find myself shaken to the core, my mind is being traumatized. I am collapsing fast.

They start intermixing the films of me fucking the girl then me being hanged. With the girl they administer electro pleasure stimulation, then the hanging with pain stimulation. Over and over. The are making my mind believe this happened, that I sinned against my own morals and my penalty is death by hanging. This isn’t real, it isn’t, but my mind is failing. Now the films are streaming simultaneously, one on the right, the other on the left. I am having trouble distinguishing reality and fiction. I’m beginning to babble, crying, begging to make it stop. I then start to have what I think were hallucinations. I’m awake, but my mind is dreaming. They are horror dreams. Is this what going schizoid is all about?  My mind is becoming disconnected from my body. I don’t like this. My mind is so tired, so confused. I’m fighting against my bounds. I start to have no idea of where I am, why I am here, why can’t I get up. Who is that in the films? I think I know him, Oh God, it’s me.  Who am I fucking? Oh know, they’re hanging me. Is this Hell? Am I dead? Help me, please help me. Make it stop. Please, please make it stop.

I must have part of my brain still working to my benefit. I consciously don’t recall deciding, but I hear myself yelling out “Red, Red, Red, Red!” This is my dead-stop safe word. My deep subconscious must have decided this must end.

The boys are either watching me closely with cameras and tracking my vitals or they are actually listening, probably both. I’m sure that my respirations, pulse and blood pressure all elevated rapidly while I was watching the films and receiving the pain stimulus, and that may be why they acted. Or they respect safe words, because they abruptly switched to streaming pleasant videos and soothing music and I am told “It’s OK, you are fine, you did great, concentrate on the things that make you happy and relax by taking deep, slow in and out breaths. We’ll have you out in a jiffy.” I know ‘jiffy’ is a silly word, but I distinctly remember it being used. I just don’t know who said it, who was giving the instructions to me at that moment.