Training Day

--- frank sexual discussion ---


I have been tasked with three specific chores to complete today; two of them, I don't mind so much, but the third - ugh, the third. And it's not exactly a light day for me, either.

But I digress.

Task one is my usual morning task: I am to insert my two SmartBalls vaginally and wear them for at least 4 hours.  I actually rather like this one, so right after my shower I get them into place - I squat on the bathroom floor with my knees apart, and rub the end of the first ball across my pussy to get the juices flowing and lube the balls. Sometimes I do use a bit of lube to get things moving easier, but I have this weird sense of duty, or pride, or something, that means that 99% of the time the only lube I use is my own. So rubbing the balls over my pussy is important.

Once I can feel the juices start, I press the first ball into my opening, using steady pressure to push it inside. Then I line up the second ball and shove, sinking my finger deep inside to be sure both balls are well-seated, and only a small portion of the removal cord remains outside my body. Then I wash my hands, get dressed, and leave the house to get started on my day. I can feel them in there, to be sure, and I periodically squeeze my muscles, which means I feel them more strongly. 4 or so hours later, I retreat to the bathroom, wherever I may be at the time, to remove them. Many months ago Master had given me instructions on bearing down to expel them using my vaginal muscles, and I do that much of the time, grasping the cord and pulling only slightly as I work my inner muscles to push the balls out of my body. I can definitely feel them as they crown and then slide reluctantly from my vagina, leaving me very slightly sore and well-aware that those muscles have been worked. Cleaning them is a simple matter of soap and water, followed by a more thorough washing with toy cleaner when I arrive home. There - Task one, done.

My second task of the day involves nipple training. I take a couple of clothes pins and retreat to my room. I haven't done this much, so it takes me a few minutes to figure it out, but at last I roll my nipples in my fingers to stiffen them, then attach the pins. Ugh. It pinches, and then it hurts, and then I think I can't stand it, and then it eases to merely uncomfortable. After 15 minutes, I slowly release the pins, and have to rub my nipples briskly as they suffer a pins-and-needles feeling when the blood begins to flow. Ouch. OK, that doesn't feel too sexy, but Master will be happy to learn I have followed His direction. Two down, one to go.

My third task is the one I dread; Master wants me to start using an anal plug on a more-or-less regular basis. Training, He calls it. Torture, I think to myself. I do this task reluctantly, but at last, I can't put it off any longer. In the privacy of my bathroom I strip off my jeans and panties, then take up my red plug and my favorite lube - it is thick and smooth, and makes things a bit easier. I apply it generously to the plug, then get down on the floor on one knee, my other foot planted flat on the floor. I hold the plug in my fingers and reach between my legs, and back, pressing at my hole with the tip of the plug. I can feel my body clench down against the invasion, so I try to make myself relax. I admit I have a tendency to rush this, to go too fast just to get it over with, so I really try to slow down. But I hate it, and I just want to have it done with.

I work the plug into my ass with small little strokes, pushing forward and then pulling back, working to loosen the entrance and allow my body to accept the plug easier. It takes a while, as I am tense, but at last I can feel myself relaxing. The last bit is always the worst, in my opinion, where I have to force the wider part past the ring of muscle so that the plug seats properly and stays in place. It always stretches me, and hurts, it always hurts, and I always end up just shoving the plug in and squealing or moaning or crying out with the flare of pain that always accompanies it. And then, I spend a few minutes there, crouched on the bathroom floor, panting, while my body adjusts and the pain eases and my breathing settles.

I stand up and wince - I hate the way this feels, all full and uncomfortable and wanting to go to the bathroom to get rid of this pressure. I pull my panties and jeans back on and wander out to the living room, where I settle gingerly on the couch and pick up my Mac. I have 30 minutes to go, and I need to distract myself. I am very, very aware of the foreign body in my ass, and each time I shift my position the plug shifts and pokes me and another flare of discomfort shudders through me. I bring up a crossword puzzle and start filling in the letters, trying to ignore the pressure and discomfort.

I become an obsessive clock-watcher, however, and it feels like I spend as much time checking the digital clock as I do solving the crossword clues. As the minutes crawl by, I become more antsy, until I can hardly sit still to wait out the final couple of minutes. And when the time finally marks 30 minutes, I force myself up off the couch and head straight into the bathroom to remove this evil appliance. I shed my jeans and panties again, and sit on the toilet with my knees open. I reach back and grab the base of the plug, pulling gently but steadily and feeling it moving inside me, then there's the pressure and the stretching again, the slight flare of pain as the widest part pushes past the ring of muscle and comes free. The rest of the plug slides out easily, and I'm left with a slippery plug to clean. I wipe it off with the moist wipes I keep handy for circumstances like this, then toss it in the sink. I'll get to it in a few minutes.

I clean myself next, wincing at the soreness I feel, and I close my eyes with a grimace when the bath tissue comes away stained with blood. I bleed every time, every time, and it doesn't get any easier. I whimper when I pull my jeans back on, as the soreness isn't going away. I clean the plug thoroughly and put it away, then move back to my living room couch, where I lie on my side and feel a little sorry for myself. But I can cross all three tasks off my list for today, and I'm sure I will feel better tomorrow, and that is what's important.