AMATEUR NIGHT IN THE TRAINING HALL
He let me walk and I was grateful. My knees, unused to such abuse, had begun to
feel like raw meat. I followed him closely through the hallway and did
silently whatever he told me to do. When the door opened I heard Jon speaking
out loud. Explaining the link between pleasure and pain. I heard another voice
asking a question. Low laughter, and Jon saying slowly.
"Good question, but it has no real answer. I like what I like and the hell with
anyone who tries to make me feel like a freak. Deviance is only what one person
perceives it to be. I will not feel that way because of the kind of sex I
like." There was applause, at least four or five others. I leaned desperately
close to Adam, clutching his arm. Remembering to late the rules about not
speaking without being spoken too, but I could make a request couldn't I? I had
to make this one. I would die without the granting of this request.
"Gag me, Adam." I whispered. "Please, for God's sake, gag me." I felt him
start with surprise. "I'm here and it's working on me. Please don't let me
disgrace myself here, not now." He said nothing, but led me into the room. Jon
telling the others that the demonstration subject was here. I was almost in a
panic. Hot blood pumping with fury through my limbs. I struggled for
composure. Sweat breaking out all over my body as I fought the urge to flee
this room, and all the faceless people in it. I could not see them and could
only guess what they saw when they looked at me. My burnished naked flesh. My
new welts. The blindfold. The visible fluids on my thighs from desire. I
tightened at the picture my imagination gave me, almost had me needing nothing
else to orgasm where I stood. Breathing in short hot bursts as if I had been
running. I heard Adam talking to Jon.
"On your knees, Anne." Jon said simply. Grateful for his presence. My master
of the deep voice. I kissed his boots, groveling. The perfect picture of
suffering for the watching students. I would try to be perfection. He tilted
my face up and ran the tip of his index finger over my lips. He said one word at
the silent supplication of my body. `Please, master.' "Alright." `Thank you,
Master.' My whole body said and I kissed his calves in gratitude. He tilted my
face upwards and I felt the roll of hard rubber going through my teeth,
silencing me. The buckle being tightened behind my head. "This is a novice.
New to training. She has agreed to enter a three month, part-time, training
program."
"Is she Bi?" Came a curious voice from the background. A young male by the
sound. Nervous laughter from the others.
"According to her file, No. That sort of personal preference has very little to
do with the training of a new slave. Her heterosexuality is a moot point. She
has to be taught to focus on pleasing me. Her master. My wishes must always be
first. If I want her to eat a woman, she eats her until I tell her to stop."
The crowd liked that. "Until such a time as she thinks that way, she is subject
to punishment. Like this." He stood me up and turned me around. Low gasps
from the crowd. I must have some good marks. "After everyone has had a chance
to examine the slave and feel her compliance to command. We will demonstrate
the various types of whips and paddles. Any questions?" There was one.
"She's gagged, what about her safe-word?" That was a woman, older with a voice
like melted honey. Probably a divorcee getting into it for the money it could
bring in.
"Annie, did I gag you?" I shook my head vigorously. "Did you request to be
gagged?" I nodded the same way. "Are you feeling blue?" NO! My hair moving
in my vehemence, practically whipping me. "Are you ready to play?" YES!!! He
touched the opening to my vagina the wetness seeming to get bigger. Syrupy
thick. "She's wet. Periodically, during our play. I'll ask her how she feels.
Blue is her safe word and I can incorporate it into meaningless sentences to
enhance the torment." His hand left me in that self-same, sweet torment he was
trying to explain how to do to the others. "Adam, Please." I was suddenly
lifted and put on my back. My arms and legs spread on a hard surface, like a
starfish and secured with heavy leather restraints at least three inches wide.
These were quickly buckled and the sound of the D-rings being snapped to the
table hooks was clearly audible to me. So audible that I barely heard Jon's
words over the pounding of my heart thundering in my ears. Words softly spoken
to the class about the roots of desire and expected responses. I relaxed into
the bondage and felt big hands on the sides of my face. Adam's hands, I could
smell him. I went beyond thought, beyond the room. Into the secret place
inside me that was the true base of my desire. I surrendered. "See how the
restraint enhances the submission. She has given up whatever mental struggle
caused her to ask for the gag and eased her into the physical sensations she is
expecting me to inflict on her. Her mind is free. She is no longer expected to
control herself. I have taken that away from her." That was it exactly. The
pure, undiluted essence of what I was feeling. I was beyond my own control and
into his. Jon knew what I wanted and gave it to me. I felt the most profound
surge of love that I had ever felt for anyone in my life for him. My master.
He called the students up to the front of the room with him. Asking for a one
to volunteer for something. Adam's hands tightened on my face. Covering my
ears to muffle the sounds around me. His thumbs stroking my cheeks absently.
I felt hesitant hands on me. Squeezing my breasts then lightly pinching the
nipples until the tips hardened into little knots of pleasure. Moving slowly
down my quivering ribcage to rest on my belly and the gentle sloping curve above
my pubis. My hips twitched and the low laughter reached my ears even through
Adam's hands. A hot blush creeping up my neck, prettily, I hoped. Lower the
hands moved, more confidently this time. Just skirting the hot moist hungry
triangle at the apex of my thighs. I moaned, a low miserable sound.
One touch of those fingers would send me over the edge. More hands touched me
all over. My legs, my arms. Lifting my breasts again to roughly squeeze them.
Little pinches on the insides of my thighs. My opening strained, clenched.
Forcing the wetness out to run between my legs to pool on the table beneath me.
A hand moved to my opening. Separating the lips gently, widening the folds.
Other hands pushing my legs apart as far as the bonds would allow. I arched my
back off the table in spasm. Feeling the fingers sliding up the pubic lips, as
they were pulled tautly open. Massaging them. Making me frantic with pulsing,
throbbing heat. I struggled against the table. Make me come, or for heaven's
sake, let me go! The tiny bud of my clitoris, impossibly full and fluttering
visibly between my thighs. The quick fingers pulling on it to make it swell
even larger and more obvious. Adam's voice broke through the fog covering my
senses.
"Jon says it's alright. Come when they make you." I growled around the gag
ferally. All thoughts of dignity gone between those words and the fingers being
pushed into me slowly. Expanding the blood-filled tissues. Other hands cupping
my thighs and teasing the welts under them. Two fingers in me now pushing in as
far as they could. Knuckles grazing the pearl of longing in delightful bursts.
Long fingers, thick fingers. Now three, rotating in ever increasing agility.
The motion of it like a organ. I felt someone else brush against my clitoris
with the gentlest of contact. A butterfly-feeling pressing upon it, barely felt
through the thick fluids covering it. Fast light movements. Tighter and
tighter, my passion wound in me. My senses whirled and I was entangled in the
crude sensation between my legs. My heart palpitating in my chest, wildly
caught in the sensations overcoming me. I barely felt the slick fingers become
four. Going into me just a little roughly, yet so deliciously. Working me to
climax. I was as tightly wound as a good bowstring, orgasmic tautness making my
body rigid as I neared my peak. The ebb and flow from these hesitant fingers
maddening me, driving me so slowly to the crest. I wanted to scream in
frustration and when I did finally scream aloud, the blessed gag muffled the
sound to nothing.
I came then. A weeks worth of unrequited passion spilling over the hand inside
me and all the hands on me. The memories of the whipping fueling the fire. The
almost remembered feeling of Adam's thick organ driving into me from behind.
The complete surrender of my will by the bonds. The gag and the blindfold. The
faceless strangers in me and on me. Shook my drenched cleft and my heated body
in a surfeit of clutching, twitching, straining passion. The stretch of my body
against the bonds when I came was felt throughout my whole being. Wrenching
every nuance of feeling from my hot little opening. The hand squeezed tightly
in the merciless clench of my vagina. My uterus spasming as well in fast, firm,
powerful little jerks.
I came down slowly and was just starting to catch my breath. To come back into
myself, when I realized the motion was continuing. Pushing me towards yet
another higher orgasmic plateau. These fingers were coarser, just a bit cruder.
The tender little clitoris starting to ache under the merciless assault of
bigger, harder fingers. Rolling it and pinching it indelicately.
"That's Jon on your clit and he says that once is enough for right now, little
one." Adam explaining to me in a calm clear voice that I must not come again. I
must wait and fight against it. I sobbed miserably as Jon worked my tiny
button. Feeding it to frenzy once again, not letting me even catch my breath
from the last time. My now empty vagina, clenching on emptiness. I battled to
contain the rising rush of orgasm. My muscles tighter than when I came the last
time. My head trying to roll helplessly on the table, yet held still by Adams
firm fingers. Breath almost suspended, a bare whistle between my lips and the
gag. I tried to move my hips away from the thoughtless insistent fingers and
couldn't. I was just making it worse. Just when I knew that I was truly lost.
Just before I was going to be unable to contain it. When it was going to get
out of my control and the frantic feeling of being trapped on that table
threatened to overwhelm me. The fingers withdrew, pinching my wet labial lips
closed once again. I was weeping with relief. My throat working around the gag
to supply air to starved tissues. Swallowing around the lump in my throat.
Misery and triumph at war within my soul. I had done what he wanted but it had
been so difficult! My body craving the pleasure, but wanting to please. The
hands left my face and I heard low laughter.
"Are you feeling blue yet?" No! Because then I would be left like this. Left
with this burgeoning knot of unreleased feeling boiling inside me, or worse yet.
Having to deal with it myself. The dry release that felt like nothing compared
to this. This complete and utter subjugation to another's will. I would not
stop now. I was at the point where I felt truly free from the daily reality
that ruled my every waking minute. This was my ultimate fantasy. I would not
be the one to stop it. I shook my head, sobbing behind the gag. I had the
undivided attention of all the people in this room. They had touched me, felt
me orgasm. Talked about what to do to me next. Played me like an expensive
piano until I had exploded against their passions. Caressed my loins and my
breasts. I had no wish for them to stop now. I loved everything they were doing
to me. They were me. I felt... alive. "That's the big lesson, right there."
Jon's voice was soothing and his hand stroked me with genuine affection. "The
slave must feel that they have no choice and all choices." Something trailed
over my stomach, slowly. I blossomed with a new and different heat. I knew the
strap, craved it, wanted it. I wanted the hard ritualized whipping that I was
used too. Just hard enough to climax too, but not hard enough to be punishment.
My body knew the difference and responded with this new humiliating fire.
The thin leather bands tracing over me in a delicate teasing pattern. `Don't
stop there, Master.' I thought wickedly. The little voice inside me becoming
caught up in the heat of the moment.
"There are many ways to punish, or torment, your slave." A quick whistle
through the air and the gratifyingly luscious stroke of thick unsparing leather
against the soft unmarked curve on the inside of my thigh. I pulled against the
bindings, feeling again the solid thump of the lash on the other tender thigh.
Quick flash of rapidly dissipating pain. Wonderfully perfect. A multi-tailed
cat, if I didn't miss my guess. One with enough heft to it to sting the way it
was supposed too. "Note the responses of the slave as they become visible.
Deepening respirations, and the quaint little hitches of the torso. It could
indicate either tears, or passion. It's up to you to determine which. Adam,
please." The blindfold was coming off! I was losing the safe darkness I was
abandoned in. They would be able to see my eyes. My damp, suffering, eager
eyes. "Taking the time to vary the environment also creates its own sensations.
What was once in solitude is now revealed for all to see. Look her over
carefully." The light was almost painfully bright and it raised small tears on
its own. When I blinked, they rolled from the corners of my eyes to rest in the
hair at my temples. Seeing what was above me for the first time was an
experience all its own. The room was filled with subdued brilliance. The track
lighting set in the corners away from the center of the room. One broad beam
slanted across my body to light it to perfection. By raising my head I could
see the people standing outside the periphery of the light and almost see the
dark wooden paneling that graced the walls. The table I rested on was at waist
height for Jon. I could see him next to me, leaning over. I looked, as much as
I was able too through the light. He smiled down, in amused tolerance. His
eyebrows meeting over his eyes in mock severity. Several others leaned over me
and I met their eyes blandly, coldly. They were merely window dressing. Hands
that Jon was using on me. Distraction from his true purpose. He wanted to see
how much I would take before strangers. These uninitiated strangers. I knew
that he wanted some deep intellectual/physical reaction from me. I wanted to go
with the flow. If he had looked at my diary, he would know that crowds captured
my imagination on some lower level, but that one-on-one was much more difficult
for me to bear. I heard the crack of the whip and waited for the feel of it on
my body. My eyes clenching shut, tensing for the pain that never came. Jon
laughed and I heard one of the students ask.
"Are they any other safe ways to induce sensation without risking the kinds of
injury the whip causes?" I saw this one asking his question and didn't want to
hear Jon's reply. Of course there were many ways. Just as painful, but they
left no marks. I much preferred to be whipped, if I had a choice. Thank you,
very much. It's over quicker.
"Here try these, carefully." I heard the tinkle of chain and saw him handing
small steel clamps over me to the young male. The good ones with the tension
screws set in the tops so they don't do any real tissue damage, not like the
kind from Radio Shack.
"They work best when they are tightened after application. They serve a
different purpose than the whip." They did too. Restricting blood flow to
whatever area they were applied too. They didn't even hurt until you took them
off. "Go on, those were designed for the nipples." He handed others around the
room and I didn't even want to know where they were supposed to go. I was still
hot and ready for some action. Not this slow maddening head-trip. Where he
explained ever-single thing that he did to me. If he wanted to work me why
didn't he just get on with it? This was taking so long. The boy's hands were
shaking when he touched me with uncertainty. Adam stood next to him, gazing
over his shoulder.
"Here, like this." He took a hold of my nipple and twisted it painfully,
smiling at the quick painful jerk of my torso. Clamping the little steel
torture device on the sensitive, pulsating tip. "The twist gets the blood
coming to the area and when you clamp it, well, let's just say that it has a
much harder time, getting there." The boy did the other one, but much more
slowly. Harder pinch though. Tighter set on the clamp too. Adam loosened it.
"Not too tight, now. Some blood must flow, or the area goes numb. They have to
be able to feel it." One of the others asked how you could tell if they were
tight enough, and Adam gave a solid wrench on the chain connecting my breasts to
each other. Arching me off the table and bringing quick tears of pain to my
eyes. "Tight enough. They didn't come off." I could hear the smile in his
voice. "Do the ones between her legs, the same way." I felt the clasp of tight
little steel teeth against the soft wet folds of my labia. Pinching me just
firmly enough to be uncomfortable, not enough to bruise. They all gave little
tugs on the trinket's chains and played with slick wetness seeping out of me in
unfulfilled desire. Putting more little adornments on my earlobes and a quickly
applied something in my belly button. Maddening me and distracting me. "They
are used as reminders that her body is not her own. By binding the cleft closed
and inaccessible. We are reminding her of my ownership." Jon was speaking to
the amateurs softly. His voice cold and clinically arousing. "We can go into
the other room now, and finish our discussion. Traci has something in mind for
her and I promised to leave her in here, slightly heated, to await her." The
students laughed nervously, then I heard them leave. All of them, even Adam.
It wouldn't be too long. Nobody responsible ever left a slave truly alone and
bound up.
I relaxed, waiting for the arrival of the mistress. Trying to ignore the
irritating pull of the clamps, attached to my flesh.
