Jessica's Training Ladyvet I knocked on the heavy wooden door. The cold wind blew under my coat and skirt, chilling me to the bone. I knocked again, harder, more impatiently. When the door swung open, I brushed past the tall, heavy man to get inside. He closed it behind me and stood silently, arms folded, gaze cold and unwavering. The look in his eyes kept me chilled despite the warmth of the room. I extended my hand and blurted out my name. He stared impassively, ignoring my gesture. I dropped my hand, fidgeted and blurted "Dr. Renoir suggested that I come here." "I've been waiting for you, Jessica" he said coldly. "You're an hour late." The nerve of him, calling me by my first name! But Renoir said he was the best in his field. "I'm sorry. I got lost. It was a long drive and the roads aren't very well marked this far out." He looked me up and down appraisingly, insolently. "Renoir sent you because..." He awaited my answer. I stood in the foyer just inside the door, still dressed in my winter fur with a rude stranger demanding the most intimate details of my life. I tried to answer but I couldn't get the words out. I finally turned back to the door and told him I was afraid that coming was a mistake. "Perhaps you're right," he said "but I'll decide that for myself! I walked toward the door. He leaned back against it and shook his head. He towered over me. I knew I would have to stay until he released me. "You've already wasted an hour of my time. Let's get on with it." He held out a file folder with my name on it. He knew why I was here. He wanted to make me say the words. "I'm inorgasmic and nymphomaniacal. I want to learn to have orgasms and get my life under control." "What you're telling me is that you can't come?" I nodded. "And you'll fuck anything that walks to try, isn't that right?" My cheeks felt like they were on fire. I never used that sort of language. The antiseptic, unemotional clinical terms were easier to deal with. "You've never been able to come by yourself or with a man?" I shook my head. "Renner writes that your father caught you masturbating when you were around fourteen. He made you continue while he beat you with a belt. Tell me about it." His eyes bored into mine. "It hurt!" I blurted. "It hurt terribly!" "I know it hurt. Tell me how it made you feel." I remembered lying on my stomach, rubbing myself while my father flailed away with the belt and shouted that he'd make a lady of me or else! It ended with my screaming and gasping into the pillow; almost suffocating from the strange, overpowering sensation that suddenly gripped me as the flailing leather reddened and bruised my skin. "I couldn't catch my breath. I think I may have had an orgasm." "That's what I thought. You only experienced the sensation that one time?" I nodded. I'd touched myself again after I got up my nerve. I started to tingle a bit but it never got any more intense. It was the same on dates while I was in college. They touched and licked and took me. Nothing happened. It was no different when my husband and I made love during our short marriage or with the endless parade of faceless men who sweated and strained on me, filling me with their sticky passion after my divorce. It was the same when I was alone, driven to make love to myself for hours with humming vibrators, rubbing my clitoris until it was raw. My life was a constant unsuccessful attempt to experience another orgasm. I dreaded not being able to feel more than the bare beginnings of pleasure for the rest of my life. He walked past me. I followed him reluctantly through the house to a room in the lower level furnished like a medieval torture chamber. I hesitated to enter but I had come this far and wasn't about to give up after years of frustration and fruitless analysis. He locked the door behind me and held out his hand for my coat. It was his first civil act. I gave it to him and looked around at the whips and other implements of torture hanging malevolently on the walls. I suddenly felt weak in the knees. What if he intended to torture me to death? He was far too strong to fight off. I looked for some way to escape but there was none. He took my chin in his hand and smiled, subduing my panic. His tone was cool and professional. "I'll accept you as a subject and train you." I wondered at his choice of words but said nothing. "I demand instant and complete obedience. You'll cooperate with me completely. You'll address me as 'Master Jason.'" I nodded. He slapped my cheek! I was so surprised I couldn't even react. He slapped me harder and drew back his hand to do it again. "I understand, Master Jason," I acknowledged before he could strike me a third time. He positioned me between two granite pillars studded with metal rings, fastened manacles with chains hanging from them to my wrists, then pulled the loose ends through rings near the tops of the pillars and fastened them to hooks. My arms were pulled so tightly I was on tiptoes after he removed my shoes. I struggled futilely. He smiled at my discomfort. I told him the chains were too tight, that they were hurting my arms. He slapped my face again, shook his head and admonished "remain silent unless you're answering a question." He put his hands on my hips and slowly ran them up my ribs until his palms touched the outer curves of my breasts. I wanted to demand that he stop and let me go but I bit my lip and kept still. He nodded in satisfaction. "Good. You're learning." He left and returned with a long, thin knife. Was he going to cut my throat? I tugged helplessly at the chains. He pulled the neck of my cashmere knit dress out, inserted the knife and cut it to the hem. He stepped behind me, cut the dress away at the back and pushed the soft material up my arms. The shoulder straps of my bra went next. Rather than unfasten it, he walked around in front of me again and cut through the band. The black lace fell away from my breasts. He touched my ribs just below them. I expected him to cup me but he didn't. He just held his hands there and let warmth radiate outward. My nipples hardened. He stroked my ribs, just grazing the outer curves of my breasts. I couldn't help squirming. "You want me to rub them, don't you?" he asked. I nodded, then quickly remembered to reply properly. He selected a horsetail whisk from the collection of whips and straps on the wall and returned to stand so close I felt the heat from his body. "Very well, enjoy it." He drew the rough hair across my nipples and the undersides of my breasts then backed away and swatted my chest. There wasn't much of a sensation at first but after several strokes my breasts began to burn. My nipples got so hard they ached. He dropped the whisk at my feet and rubbed my sides and stomach again. I trembled as his fingers slid over my sweat-slick skin, always avoiding my aching breasts. He felt the crotch of my panties and smiled with satisfaction at my wetness. He slid them down to my ankles, leaving me naked and defenseless and ordered me to spread my legs. I managed to get my ankles a foot or so apart. The tips of my toes barely touched the floor. My wrists throbbed from the added strain. He used the whisk on my inner thighs until they burned like my breasts. "That's all for today," he announced as soon I began to pant. "Come back a week from today and be punctual." He freed my wrists. I dropped my aching arms to my sides, letting the remnants of my dress fall to the floor. I bent to pull up my panties but he ordered me to leave them on the floor. I followed him out of the chamber, wishing that I didn't have to leave. He held the front door open for me. I started down the stairs. "Don't wear underwear when you come back." he called out "and don't have sex or masturbate." The ride home seemed to take forever. My hands and feet were cold but my body was hot and sweaty despite my nakedness under my coat. I hardly managed to get my door closed behind me before I started touching myself. I lay on the floor with my coat still on and rubbed my breasts and clit and fingered myself until I was raw but it did no good. All I got was wetter and sorer. The days dragged until it was time for my next appointment, for which I was careful to be prompt. I took off my dress as soon as he closed the chamber door so he wouldn't cut it off. He looked appraisingly at my body, studying its curves and planes. "You followed my instructions about underwear. Did you abstain from sexual stimulation?" I lied that I had but he knew otherwise. How could he have expected me not to touch myself after he had aroused me so much? He led me to one of the pillars, pressed me against it, ordered me to hug it and cuffed my wrists together. It was so large my arms barely circled it. The stone was cold and extremely rough. He forced my feet apart with his boot. I tried to look at him over my shoulder but he ordered me to put my forehead against the stone. He lifted my hair off my back, twisted it into a thick rope and pushed it into my mouth. With my hair out of the way, he flailed my shoulder blades with a crop until it felt like he was flaying me. I pressed against the pillar and bit down on my hair to keep from screaming. He whipped my buttocks next, criss-crossing it with dozens of welts. The pain reached a point after which I also felt excitement. He stopped whipping me, pulled my hair free and asked me if I wanted to reconsider my answer about obedience. I admitted that I had masturbated. "You're disobedient, dishonest and undisciplined. You agreed to obey my rules and you didn't even do it for a week." He rubbed my burning buttocks until I couldn't keep still. "You're a bitch in heat who won't accept rules. I can't train you to come if you won't cooperate. Unfortunately for you, you've tried everything else and I'm your last resort!" "Yes, Master Jason, I need your help," I agreed. "I'll give you another chance but this time it isn't going to be as easy. I'm going to discipline you severely." He pulled a leather helmet over my head and strapped it tightly around my neck. It covered me all the way down to my collar bones. There were no eye, ear or mouth openings; only a pair of small holes under the nose. He freed me from the pillar, laid me on my back on a wide wooden bench and fastened my wrists and ankles to it, leaving me completely open and vulnerable. He touched my breasts for the first time, rubbing and molding them until I was on fire. He probed between my legs, forcing first two, then three fingers into me and pinched my nipples with his other hand. I moved on his fingers. My whole universe consisted only of his hands and my needs. He stopped touching me and wiped his hand on my stomach. I thought he was going to enter me but he flogged me with a thin whip instead, methodically and slowly working his way up from my ankles to my neck, leaving no area unmarked except my breasts and crotch. I moved around as much as I could when the whip fell near them but he denied me the contact. He patted my engorged labia and asked if I wanted something there. "Yes, Master Jason," I moaned into the tight leather. I didn't care whether it was him, his hand, the whip handle or something else. I'd never been so close to what I thought an orgasm might feel like. My entire body tingled. The sensation was incredibly intense in my nipples and clit. "I don't think you're ready yet," he said. "I'll return later." He freed my right wrist and slammed the door. I tried to remove the suffocating helmet but it was locked at the back of my neck. I lay there desperately gripping the side of the bench as long as I could, fighting to keep my hand away from my body. I finally couldn't stand it and touched myself. He seized my wrist! I should have known that he'd stay to watch me! "You say you want me to train you to come and you either refuse to cooperate or are incapable of it. In either case, I accepted you as a subject and I'll complete your training!" He freed me, rolled me onto my stomach and restrained me spread eagle again. His heavy weight crushed me as he lay on top of me and forced himself slowly into my tight, protesting anus! I'd never tried sex that way before because I feared the pain. He was so thick I was afraid he would tear me apart but I gradually found pleasure despite the discomfort and humiliation. I began to match his rhythm. He slapped the back of my head so hard that sparks danced before my eyes. "I didn't give you permission to fuck me," he snarled. "This is for me, not you!" He placed the heels of his hands on my shoulder blades and put his weight on them, crushing my breasts against the bench, pumped several times then lunged against me. It felt as though his cock was forcing itself right through my body. He withdrew as soon as he came, leaving me open and empty. He removed the leather helmet, freed my wrists and ankles and restrained me between the pillars. He fastened a heavy, ice cold chain tightly around my waist and drew another one suspended from it between my legs. It was divided where it was attached to the waist chain at the back and joined between my anus and vagina into a single, thicker chain, the links of which were covered with short, sharp protrusions. He separated me, pulled it into my cleft and arranged it so that it pressed against my clit. It hurt terribly! It felt like it was cutting me in dozens of places. I screamed and struggled to raise my hips to escape it. He pulled it tighter. He attached it to the front of the waist chain with a heavy lock. The sharp metal dug into me, forcing itself into my tender flesh, biting into my labia and clit. I started to cry in pain and humiliation. He freed my hands and watched impassively while I tried to pull the crotch chain out. It wouldn't budge. The waist chain was so tight it dug into the tops of my hips. I pleaded desperately with him to remove it. He ignored my groveling and rubbed my breasts, smiling broadly when my nipples responded. "You should thank me for putting the chastity on you," he sneered. "Now you'll be able to obey my instructions and leave yourself alone. Get dressed and get out of here." I asked when I could return. He responded that I'd know when and left me to find my way out. I had a terrible time dressing and walking to my car. Every movement brought new flashes of pain. I sat gingerly in the car and drove slowly until I felt wetness under me. I stopped, pulled my dress up, touched myself and looked at my fingers under the map light. They were slimy with my blood and lubricant. The only thing I had to wipe myself with was a white silk scarf. I cleaned my hand, then spread myself and swabbed my tortured, bulging labia gently, luxuriating in the soothing softness of the cloth and the subtle feeling of pleasure it brought forth. The sharp chain caught and tore the scarf but I kept on, enjoying the sudden tingling sensation. I pressed harder. A link cut my finger. I sucked the sticky mixture of my liquids from it. An incredibly strong sensation started in my pelvis and lower stomach, then surged into my upper thighs and breasts. I gasped for breath! It flowed through me like white-hot lava. The chain felt like it was on fire! I pressed my fingertips against it, ignoring the cuts, forcing it still deeper into me until the sensation crested and plateaued. I had to return immediately, even if he killed me. He was waiting for me. I led him back to the dungeon, undressed, leaned back against a pillar with my legs spread and rubbed my breasts defiantly, daring him, forcing him to punish me. He turned me around, chained my hands above my head, took a heavy strap from the wall and smashed it against my back. I spread my legs and jammed myself against the cold, rough stone, scraping my nipples and inner thighs on its unfeeling hardness. He slammed the strap against me again. Flames licked at my insides. I ground the chain and lacerated, swollen place from which it emerged against the unyielding pillar. Hot wetness trickled down my thighs. The third blow almost triggered an orgasm. I screamed and hunched myself against the pillar until I was too exhausted to move. He left me hanging helplessly by my wrists for what seemed like an eternity with the chain still embedded in me, forcing itself deeper with each small movement of my hips. I lost track of everything but my desire. I suddenly became aware of his hands on my breasts, squeezing them, tugging my chafed nipples until they swelled and stiffened. The lower part of the pillar was smeared with blood where I had rubbed against it. He abandoned my tingling breasts and slid his hands slowly down my ribs and stomach until his fingers rested on the place where the chain touched my clit. "Do you want something?" he asked. "Tell me what it is." "I want you to fuck me!" I panted. I was so breathless I could hardly form the words. I pushed back against his hardness and begged him to take off the chastity and give me what I needed. "No, I'm not going to fuck you, Jessica" he replied. "You're still defiant and disobedient. You haven't earned the right to be fucked!" I started to shake and cry in anger and frustration. He wet himself on my inner thighs, then pressed his hardness against my anus. I relaxed my muscles and pushed myself down on him a little at a time until he was completely inside me, stretching me, filling me with incredible heat. It hurt less this time because I didn't fight it. He crushed me against the pillar, squeezed my breasts and moved them against it, scraping my nipples raw on the cold stone. I moved on him, slowly at first, then more frantically, relishing the spear of flesh stabbing at my bowels. He wrapped both hands around the waist chain and pulled it up, jamming the bristling links further into me. The pain seared me, permeating my entire body, then suddenly receded, displaced by a seething flood of incredible excitement and pleasure. Tears of joy flooded my eyes despite the biting metal and the blood coursing down my inner thighs. "This one is for me, isn't it," I asked, then I screamed as my body responded to his, gripping him, milking him, ascending to the stars on a tidal wave of agony and ecstasy. Master Jason removed the chain, cleaned me up and carried me to a guestroom. I woke up around noon to find him standing over me. He smiled, pulled down the sheet and asked if I'd slept well. My nipples swelled from his nearness and the memory of the previous night. My lacerated labia and clit were swollen and sore but my need for him was even more painful. I wanted him so badly I felt dizzy. I was certain that I'd come again if only he'd make love to me. I stretched, smiled seductively and sat up. "I slept wonderfully," I said. "I feel absolutely great!" I spread my knees and smoothed the hair at the back of my neck with both hands to raise and accentuate my breasts. He ignored my invitation. "Then I'll start the next phase of your training." He opened the nightstand drawer, removed a metal tray containing disinfectant, a thick needle, two pairs of heavy rings hinged at their sides to form joined "C"s and a small lock. "You don't have enough willpower to complete your training without assistance. I'm going pierce your nipples and put the smaller rings in them to act as a constant reminder to obey, then I'm going to infibulate you with larger rings and close you with this lock. I'll cut the rings when I want to remove them. I'll keep the key to the lock. I may remove it from time to time, depending on how cooperative you are and how well your training progresses. You are forbidden to stimulate yourself or to allow anyone touch you. Do you have any questions?" I answered "no, Master," lay back and closed my eyes. He'd been right about what I needed thus far. I'd willingly endure whatever he commanded me to. He rubbed my already hard left nipple until it was fully erect, stretched it out and pushed the needle through it's base. The pain was less intense than I feared it would be. He put a ring against the head of the needle, forced it through the piercing and snapped it shut. My flesh swelled around it, embracing it, silently acknowledging that it was now part of me. I watched while he did the right side. The needle was almost like a cock sinking into me until it suddenly emerged, hard, sharp, tinged pink with my blood. I stared at the nipple rings while he continued his work, hardly feeling the needle when he pierced my labia. I felt the weight of the rings very plainly, though. "I'll call you to schedule your next appointment," he said, locked my labial rings together and tugged on them. "Keep a daily diary of your thoughts and feelings, beginning today. E-mail an entry each day. Make it as detailed as possible. Don't call me or come back until I contact you." Pages from my diary ********************************** First day: The drive home was terrible. I ached and throbbed but the pain of the piercings was easier to bear than my thwarted desire. I'm certain that I could have come if only You had made love to me before closing me. ********************************** Twelfth day: I dreamed about You again last night. I hated it when the alarm dragged me back to reality and the sensation of Your touch ebbed away. I tried to cling to the dream but it dissipated, leaving me incredibly aroused. My nipples ached to be sucked and massaged. I rolled onto my stomach and rubbed my breasts against the mattress. The pressure only intensified the tingling. I moved them back and forth and massaged my stomach and sweaty ribs with my fingers, stopping just short of my breasts, then I caressed the smooth, slick skin of my inner thighs. The temptation to rub my puffy labia was almost too strong to resist. The lock and rings pinched me, relentlessly reminding me of their presence and my thwarted desire. You knew exactly what You were doing! There's no way I could let a man even see me with the rings and lock hanging from me, let alone touch me. Besides, what man would want to? How could I face anyone if the secret of my incredible predicament were exposed? The torturing metal would keep me from making love to a man but it couldn't keep me from rubbing my distended clit or slipping a finger inside myself to massage the swollen place above my urethra if I dared to disobey You. The need to try to make myself come was overwhelming but I'm afraid to give in to it. That's the most exquisite torture of all! You'd somehow know if I masturbated and punish me by depriving me of the pleasure/pain I crave so desperately. I touched the slippery rings and lock with my fingertips. They were hot from the fire burning under them. I knew if I didn't stop then, I wouldn't be able to! I forced my hands away and gripped the headboard until my excitement faded enough so I could get out of bed. My reflection in the full-length bathroom mirror reminded me of a sex-starved cat in heat. My dark, knotted nipples jutted, holding the rings out, mocking me with their constant tingling. I sat on the floor in front of the mirror, leaned back, spread my legs and examined for the hundredth time the metal embedded in me like a bizarre parasite. I parted my labia above the rings, pulling the slippery skin shiny tight. My distended purple clit protruded from its sheath like an insolent little cock. I longed to touch it or even better, to feel Your tongue against it. I held myself open under the shower and let the frigid water cascade over me until the cold banked the raging inferno of my desire and shrank the little bundle of raw, jangling nerves. I dried myself and put on the bulky, uncomfortable pad I wear even though I'm not having my period. I need it to absorb the wetness seeping in readiness for a cock You might never allow me to enjoy. ********************************** Thirtieth day: Today was particularly frustrating. Male coworkers hovered around me like a pack of dogs pursuing a bitch in heat. They seem to sense my arousal though I do my best to hide it. The rings keep my nipples so prominent they're visible under my bra. Maybe the men can somehow smell my need although I shower twice a day. I've been to bed with most of them at least once in the past. They can't understand why I'm not receptive now. Their nearness and attention drive me to distraction. What would they think if they knew I'm mentally undressing and making love to them while I'm brushing them off? To make matters worse, Frank Bishop called to tell me he's in town for a couple of days. We slept together whenever he could steal some time. I've come closer to having a climax with him than with any of the others. I hoped I'd experience my first one with him. It almost killed me to tell him I couldn't see him this time. I rushed home to wait hopefully for Your call and spent the evening staring at the mockingly silent phone, tortured by memories of Frank's hard body, strong hands and skillful tongue. I could almost feel the weight of his body on mine and taste his salty sweat as I mentally licked his small, copper nipples. I violated Your prohibition and guiltily rubbed mine through my blouse. They hardened, holding out the rings, daring me to continue. I imagined that Frank's teeth were stretching my nipples. It was more than I could bear! I leaned back, spread my legs wide and rubbed myself through my slacks and the soggy pad. The lock dug into my labia but it still felt so good I couldn't stop. I unbuttoned my waistband. God! I was so close! I closed my eyes, slipped my fingers inside my slacks and touched the hard little tip of my clit. Damn You! I was afraid let myself continue! I gripped the arms of the chair and struggled to put Frank out of my mind. My hips jerked uncontrollably for a long time before I managed catch my breath and relax. I showered away my sweet, musky scent then lay awake, tortured by the acute longing in every fiber of my body. My distended nipples poked insistently against the sheet. Wetness seeped out over my anus to dampen the sheet under me. I pressed my hands against my pubis and fought to control them until I could fall asleep. I woke up from an intensely erotic dream with my nightgown up around my waist and fingers pressed to my swollen labia. I had been masturbating in my sleep. I looked at the slick secretion on my fingers then I raised them to my nose and inhaled the heady, musky scent of my excitement. My labia were so passion-swollen that the rings pinched me. I removed the sodden pad, wiped myself with a wad of tissues, got up and walked around to cool off and figure out how to restrain my hands to keep it from happening again. I looped a terry cloth bathrobe belt around a spindle in the headboard, tied it tightly around my wrists and slid down until my hands were over my head. It worked. I couldn't touch myself but it had an unfortunate side effect; it brought back vivid memories of You. I was suddenly back in the chamber, hanging by my wrists, ready to experience the incredible ecstasy of an orgasm. I spent the night on my stomach, squirming against the unfeeling mattress with a pillow clenched between my knees, weeping with longing and frustration. My rings felt like they were getting thicker as the tissue around them engorged. I've come to think of them as mine because they're so much a part of me although it is more like I belong to them since they control me. I've even come to like the way they look, the way their hardness emphasizes the softness of my labia. I'll ask You to leave them in but I can't wait to get rid of the damned lock! The satin sheet grew wet from my oozing lubricant. I buried my face in the pillow and howled in misery as I've heard cats in heat do when their frustration becomes unbearable. The calendar says only thirty days have passed since we were together but that can't be right. I've already waited an eternity. ********************************** Federal Express delivered a package the morning after I sent the last message. It contained the key to my lock and a note: "Come to my home at ten o'clock tonight. Remove your lock and clothing before you leave your car. The door will be unlocked. Enter and go directly to the chamber. Put on the leather helmet and fasten it." My heart raced. Perhaps my training would end tonight. Perhaps it wouldn't. In either case, I knew I would finally experience what I longed for.
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