Sumiso o esclavo?

I was alone at home, the afternoon sun filtering through the slightly open curtains. A sudden impulse led me to her lingerie drawer. My trembling hands searched among her clothes until I found the pink lace thong that I loved so much. Without thinking twice, I put it on, letting the soft fabric caress my skin. It didn't take long for me to hear the sound of the main door opening. My heart leapt into my throat as fear took over. I knew I had crossed a line, that this solo game with my girlfriend's clothes wouldn't be well received. But it was already too late to undo what I'd done. Her voice echoed down the hallway, and before I could react, I saw her standing in the entrance. The expression on her face changed from surprise to fury in an instant. Her eyes, full of disdain, pierced me, sentencing me with their gaze. I can't believe you're wearing that, she said, her tone filled with contempt. I felt the weight of her words like daggers in my chest. I tried to apologize, stammering out words of regret, but she wouldn't let me speak. Her hands became a whirlwind of blows, punishing my body with each unsaid word, each secret kept El physical pain mixed with shame and humiliation as I crawled across the floor, begging forgiveness for my indiscretion. But her blows didn't stop, each one more forceful than the last. Finally, exhausted and defeated, I dragged myself to her feet, begging mercy. But she just looked at me with disdain, her gaze cold like steel. You're pathetic, she said with contempt, before turning her back on me and leaving the room, leaving me alone in the darkness of my own shame. Tears welled up in my eyes as I curled up in the corner of the room, feeling the crushing weight of my shame and failure. Each sob echoed through the empty room, a resonance of my own desperation. Suddenly, the door opened Blow, and there she was, with a furious look in her eyes. Without saying a word, she took off her shirt and threw it at me, hitting my face. Put this on! she exclaimed, her voice full of contained anger. Now! I looked at the garment that had fallen to my feet, the soft and familiar fabric of her underwear, along with leggings and a sweater. I shook my head in negation. No, I said with a trembling voice, refusing to obey her. Her hand crashed into my cheek with a painful blow, and I found myself on the floor, dazed and confused. You told me to put it on! she screamed, her voice full of fury. Obey my orders, you stupid shit! Fear took hold of me as I looked at her with pleading eyes, knowing I had no other option but to obey her. With trembling hands, I picked up the garment from the floor and put it on, feeling the weight of her authority over me. She looked at me with contempt while I was putting on the clothes, her eyes shining with triumph and satisfaction. I knew she had me exactly where she wanted me, under her absolute control. Now, wipe away your tears and get ready to receive your punishment, she said with a malicious smile, her voice full of promises of pain and humiliation. Her agile and expert hand held me firmly while applying the makeup, her cruel fingers tracing lines of humiliation on my face, each stroke a mark of my surrender. I was sobbing and begging her to stop, but my pleas only seemed to feed her sadism. Please, stop! I begged, my words muffled by the sound of the brush on my skin. She ignored my requests, dedicated to her task with a cold and calculated determination. Every time I tried to hide, she hit me hard, forcing me to remain quiet while she mocked my desperation. Quiet, you stupid shit! she growled, her words like whips in my soul. Finally, when my face was completely transformed by her cruel hand, she stepped back and looked at me with satisfaction, enjoying her work. humiliation teacher. 'Now, let's take some photos', she announced, pulling out her phone and starting to capture my shame in images. I tried to hide, to cover my face with my hands, but she hit me again, her voice full of disdain as she forced me to face the camera. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I saw myself trapped in her twisted game, knowing there was no escape. She had total control over me and was determined to use it for her own sadistic pleasure. 'What would you do if I sent these photos to your friends?', she asked, her voice soft and sibilant as she played with the phone in her hand. My heart stopped at the idea, panic taking hold of me as I imagined the consequences of her actions. She knew exactly how to attack my weak points, how to manipulate me until I broke completely. 'Don't do it, please', I begged, my words barely audible between sobs. 'I beg you, don't do it'. In the dim light of the room, I found myself kneeling before her, my eyes filled with tears as her words echoed in my mind. My hands trembled, feeling the cold fabric of her female underwear that I had been forced to wear. 'Suck my feet, promiscuous!', she ordered, pushing her bare foot towards my face. My lips brushed against the sole of her foot, a bitter taste of humiliation filling my mouth. Each lick was like an affront to my masculinity, a surrender to her powerful will. 'More, faggot', she growled, her eyes gleaming with malice. 'Show me how much you want to serve me'. With each lick, I felt the weight of her dominance crushing me, making me feel small and weak. She was reveling in my submission, in my shame, feeding off my desperation. 'Do you imagine what your friends would think if they saw this?', she whispered, her voice heavy with malice. 'A macho like you, crawling before his mistress, sucking my feet like the effeminate little faggot you are'. Tears flowed freely through my cheeks as I faced the cruel reality of my submission. I was trapped in his twisted game, condemned to satisfy his darkest desires without hope of escape. 'No, please', I sobbed, but my pleas were met with a mocking laugh. 'You're useless', he spat, his tone full of contempt. 'But that's what makes you so exciting'. My words were lost in the air, drowned out by the weight of my own humiliation. I knew there was no turning back, that my fate was sealed by the invisible chains of my submission.