slavery diaries: Dear Diary – Day Twenty Three

The next day found me huddled under the smelly blankets in this dirty pit. At least I could stretch out, just. The dirt floor was more dust so it was at least soft, but I’m sure I looked a mess. Worse I was worried my bucket was getting rather full.

And I was bored.

And I was scared.

At times I could hear noises and possibly voices.

I practised my yoga and meditation and that helped.

It was while I was doing my happy baby position that I heard a female voice say “Get it out.” I looked up but the midday sun made it too bright for me to see anything. The grate opened and a ladder was lowered. I didn’t hesitate to climb it, happily leaving my filthy blankets behind; keen to emerge into the warm sun like some grub or insect breaking out from the dirt after a long incubation.

No sooner had my head appeared and before I could even blink my eyes, a bag or hood was placed over my head and I was hauled out. I stood there naked as I felt someone prod me. “Skinny bitch, this one. Let’s see if it’s got any fight in it. Bring it.” And with that I was pushed along, a strong hand gripping my arm to stop me from falling.

I was ~~man~~ sissy handled up some stairs like I was a rag doll. The hood was removed and I was in a room of some sort. It was bare of decoration, but quiet large. There was good lighting. Mistress Eleanor was there wearing a stunning red dress that flared out. She held some camera equipment along with a camera device on a tripod. She paid me no attention.

It was the other woman in black dress that was looking at me, sizing me up. “Sissy, huh?” It was some kind of question. I nodded, more in fear than answer.

She laughed and started to take off her dress. She was almost naked underneath, no bra, just tiny black panties and lace topped thigh high stockings. She kept her black pumps on, but was holding some kind of crop in her hands along with what looked like a collar and leash. Now I was afraid.

“Hit me” she commanded. I shook my head. I could never hit a woman.

“Come on faggot, hit me...” She started to taunt me, cruelly trying to goad me with words. I slumped in the corner and she came over and put the collar around my neck, fastening it tightly.