Crawling Across Barbed Wire
Most Femdomonomic personal libraries include at least one book on feeding slave men. Extremists advocate feeding men only nasty, even rotting food. No Mistress Owner does this as a general policy. Bad smelling food is a useful short-term punishment.
The most common practice is to provide males only bland, tasteless. This is part of the Plain Male Slave Lifestyle. Males live without comforts: pillows, soft furniture, nice clothing. But discomfort and misery are not the goals. The slave is treated neutrally, impersonally.
A cookie or other treats may reward exceptional service. Such small things thrill the plain living male. The Plain Male Slave Lifestyle enhances the emotional impact of rewards and punishments.
The Mistress in the picture is a professional Femdom slaver. She uses food to quicken and deepen male psychological enslavement.
Her old technique was to starve the male until he was desperate enough to eat disgusting food. Often refuse mixed with maggots.
An effective means of breaking men. But this did not create high-quality male slaves.
After extensive trial and error, she developed her current system.
A freshly kidnapped man wakes in a small cage. The bars allow movement of only a few inches. He cannot stand. Comfort is unachievable. One side is a thick metal plate.
The room is gloomy. Dull brick walls surround him. The air is too cool (air-conditioning).
Ignorant of how and why he is in the isolated cage, the male shivers as much from terror as the cold air. Hours pass. He grows hungry, thirsty. Fear of starvation intensifies his fear.
A buzzer sounds. The first evidence of human agency during his confinement. The metal plate slides into the floor.
The cage is bigger than he realized. Not wider or taller, but longer.
At the other end a bowl, sandwich and pint of milk. Appetite is like a sharp blade in his stomach.
Preparing to crawl, he bends down. He screams. Something cut his hand.
Looking at the floor, he sees strands of barbed wire stretch across the path to food. He screams again. This time in frustration. He weeps.
He tries to crawl to the food but gives up instantly. This repeats for hours.
Desperation shuts down his mind. Slowly he crawls to the other end. Metal spikes pierce his palms and knees. For a horrible minute, he pauses halfway to his goal. He shakes himself free of hopelessness.
Soup, sandwich and milk instantly vanish. He ate too quickly. His stomach aches. Overcome with exhaustion, the man passes out.
Sleep is a series of nightmarish images. He awakes, shivering, his stomach knotted. His punctured flesh hurts. He stares at the dried blood. He cannot think or verbalize.
The buzzer sounds again. Looking at the far side of his cage, he sees more food. Two sandwiches, an apple and a cup of coffee.
But he cannot crawl back. Pulling his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. The man stares at the meal. He wants the coffee badly. Maybe the caffeine will clear his mind.
Many hours pass. The primal need for food, for survival takes charge. He crawls. Spikes cut into wounds. This trip is slower, far more painful.
He eats, then faints.
When he revives, a woman walks into the room. Gratitude overcomes him. The presence of another person eases him. He believes the woman to be a psychotic or sociopath. He hopes for explanation. Anything is better than nothing.
The woman cuffs his wrists, then opens the cage. She tends his wounds.
She talks softly. Her tone is impersonal. Her tone was impersonal but not harsh. She might be reciting a weather report. Her matter-of-factness is more effective than threats.
She tells him everything. He is a slave. He will never escape. He can obey or go back in the cage. His suffering can last as long as he is stubborn. His future is slavery.
He has no pride. Dignity died as he crawled. Choices of right and wrong are irrelevant.
He surrenders. Even begs to become her slave.
He will be another Mistress Owner’s slave. But only after training. When he leaves Mistress Trainer his conversion to slavery, will be irreversible.