Shamed to tears...

On my last visit to HH he took me to new levels of shame in a scene, that almost rivalled the depths I plummet to when I'm being punished. I had written to him in advance with my idea; a slave who had disappointed her master. Unusually for me I was very detailed in my description:

'Although strict, he is, in general, a fair and generous master, as long as she is obedient in fulfilling all of his needs. When he is pleased with her she is permitted many privileges. She sleeps in his bed, eats at his table, chooses her clothing (from those that he has provided) and when guests are present, although she serves and entertains, is permitted to socialise under his watchful eye.

On the last occasion he had a visitor she failed him. Too busy enjoying herself to attend to her duties, over indulged in his wine and became belligerent, resisting the advances of a guest at who's disposal she was put.

She's already been severely whipped for her behaviour and all her privileges have been removed. She now sleeps on the floor in a separate room, wears what he orders, sometimes nothing but her collar. She must prove her worth to him again and although the whipping made her cry, the shame at failing him is worse and she is trying very hard to regain his trust. He is not making it easy, with little encouragement and chastising her for the most minor faults...'

And after further discussion, and consultation with close friends, the scene was planned as an evening of entertaining master's friend and his personal slave. One who was impeccably behaved and whom master held up as a shining light of servitude.

An hour before our friends were due to arrive HH put me in role as Claudia, standing me on a low stool and caning me harshly as he reminded me how angry he was with me, how I had embarrassed him. Then gave me a torn singlet to wear. We had agreed in advance that he would choose the outfit and it would be best to give it to me in role. I was worried I couldn't bring myself to wear it and how right I was!

The singlet was so low cut it just about covered my nipples, and it didn't actually cover my bottom or my crotch at all. If I pulled it down I got an inch more protection down below but then exposed my breasts completely.

Already I was feeling headspacey, ashamed to have let him down. I was also struggling with how cold and distant he was with me, how there were no words of encouragement or praise at all. This proved to be particularly difficult to adjust to, and yet it's what made the scene work so well. But I realised later that in all the scenes I'd ever done previously, HH would always encourage in some way. Even if it was a dark, abusive scene there would be words of praise of my eventual acquiescence. It was therefore very hard that no matter how I tried to show obedience, willingness to accept my punishments and desperation to please he was constantly dismissive of me.

Whilst waiting for our guests to arrive I was made to kneel up against the wall, hands on head, ankles neatly together. Just as the position would become unbearable (I was too afraid to flinch) he would call me over to him to remind me of how I had failed him. Then I was strapped or caned: he wanted my bottom to show his displeasure as much as his tone did. In between I waited nervously, dreading the arrival of the guests but almost wishing them to come so afraid of being alone with him was I becoming.

When I finally opened the door to them I wished the ground would swallow me up. I was mortifyingly conscious of how little I wore, and that it highlighted my private places more than if I had actually been naked. Even worse, Elspeth was wearing the most sumptuous corset and bustle skirt with delicate high heels. Mr Hawthorne barely looked me over, I wasn't worth his notice!

My first task was to serve drinks, wine to Mr Hawthorne and water for his slave. I was berated for not bringing the drinks on a tray. When I returned to my position against the wall hearing him coldly describing my disgrace to our guests, brought the first tears to my eyes.

In contrast Elspeth sat at her master's feet, her long, silky hair fanning out over her corset. When the gentlemen praised her beauty and her obedience I wanted to die. I was ignored until my next punishment was due and tried to take the strapping as gratefully as I could, but I was not acknowledged. Yet when Elspeth was brought forward for a strapping of her own she earned praise for her beautiful posture and manners in thanking each gentleman for her punishment.

At one point I was stood on a low stool facing our visitors, as the men objectified me completely. Discussed if I could ever become anything useful again, wondered if I was worth breaking? And the full weight of my shame made the tears fall openly as I hid behind my hair. I was very deep in role and distraught to be held so low in regard.

The evening continued in this vein, with me being talked about dismissively or ignored. Made to kneel in the corner or be beaten. And at one stage suffered a humiliating and detailed inspection at the hands of Mr Hawthorne. Whilst Elspeth was petted and praised and played with.

It was hard, however to sustain the momentum and after an hour or so I began to disengage, to pull back from feeling so hurt and worthless. Noticing this HH called time on the scene and I buried myself in his arms, too embarrassed to turn around and face our guests! It was a really great scene and fabulous to play with Marlow and Lily in that way for the first time. He was the perfect visiting master and Lily was far too good at being the hated 'perfect' slave. Afterwards we giggled about what a role reversal it was for her to play such a good girl, and how hard she had to work at it!

Our evening turned to more pleasant pursuits and Claudia was retired, but only briefly.

We resurrected her the next day, with the scene starting with the bailiff whipping her before locking her into the hole to sleep for the night. (The 'hole' being a very confined place beneath the floorboards where HH incarcerates deserving girls!) It was dark and cold and dirty and the singlet gave little protection. Although I'm not very tall I had to curl up in a ball to lie down as ordered. HH went off and left me there for 10/15 minutes. I'm not really sure how long it was, being too busy trying to channel Claudia's headspace from the night before, as much so I wouldn't start freaking about spiders or being in the dark.

When he returned he let me out, now being Claudia's master. I was pathetically grateful to see him. But again the dismissive tone was hard to bear. He dragged me out of the hole, complaining that I was dirty and needed cleaning. Then forced me under a cold shower and scrubbed my skin with a rough brush.

As horrible as it was, I tried to accept his ministrations bravely but the tears soon fell. And I cried all the more feeling his strap as I lay cold and wet on the bench. I tried not to make any sound to show him I was repentant, yet could not help crying out.

But he seemed pleased by my cries. Intensified his torture; whipping my breasts, twisting my nipples, slapping my thighs. Told me I was now his pain slave, that he would take his pleasure in causing me pain. Finally gave me a crumb of praise, that he was enjoying hurting me...