Another Training Day

Warning: this is an adult blog, with adult content. There will be graphic and explicit descriptions of sexual behavior, and contains BDSM themes.



I was fortunate to spend some time with my Master today; it has been a while, and I've been missing him, quite a lot. He's been hinting about expanding my training program, and to be honest, it worried me a bit. I didn't really think he would assign me anything impossible, or terribly painful,  but the worrier in me couldn't help but feel apprehensive.

I admit, I was also worried because I screwed up. I have been given a weekly task, which I am to perform every Wednesday morning, and I have been. Until last week, when it just slipped my mind. And so, I did not complete my task, and Master called me out about it. He mentioned assigning me a punishment for my transgression, but did not tell me what it was ... so yes, I was nervous. 

I donned my standard uniform of white cotton camisole and panties, though these were new, and edged with lace. Pretty, but not fussy, and well within Master's guidelines for my attire. And then I presented myself to Master, and waited with hammering heart and ragged breaths for him to pronounce judgment on me. 

Master took one look at me and sighed.  I had worked myself into such a state of near-panic that I was useless, really.  I stood there, twisting my hands together, unable to meet his gaze. 

"You're scared," he said bluntly. Well. There's no denying it.

"I'm frantic, actually," I admitted, and then fell quiet again. And then we talked, about what had happened, about why I messed up my assigned task, about how he was weighing the need to correct my lapse against the fact that it was an honest error, not done maliciously or in willful defiance.

Once he talked me down, so to speak, I was much more pliable. And I don't mean, I became a spineless lump of clay. I mean, I had my head focused, my attention trained on my Master, my mind clear. And with my head on straight, my training session was more productive.

Master began by having me recite my daily devotion for him. It consists of 7 sentences, each outlining a course of behavior and a mental attitude to which I am expected to conform. It is a general outline of the terms and conditions of my submission to him. I recite it every evening before I go to sleep, and whenever he requests it of me. Speaking it out loud, in front of Master, helped calm me further. Yes, these things are things I freely choose, and yes, these things are within my power to perform. 
 
When I finished my recitation, he had me repeat it. I'm sure it was to confirm that I was truly "in the moment" with him, and not fretting or worried or distracted. Then he ordered me to assume Position 3. I hurriedly stripped off my clothing  - all positions are properly performed while naked - and stood before him, my feet shoulder-width apart, my hands clasped behind my back, my eyes fixed on a spot on the wall.  He circled me, slowly, checking my stance. Then he leaned over my shoulder to whisper in my ear - "I want you to cum for me."

I licked suddenly dry lips and closed my eyes. "Yes, Master."

He stepped away from me, and I opened my eyes to see where he'd gone. When I looked at him in silent question - "How do you want me?" - he merely smiled.  "I want to watch," he said.

Oh.

He leaned his arms on the footboard of the bed while I lay back and situated myself, making sure he'd have an unobstructed view. And then I brought my hand between my legs and began rubbing my clit. It was only moments until I had a decent amount of moisture, and I dipped my middle finger into my pussy to gather up those sweet, slick juices. I spread them over my nub and began to rub again, and oh yes, that felt so, so good. I coated my finger a second time and then set to work, pressing and rubbing in circles. It was so, so good. 

My hips bucked up involuntarily, and I let out a soft groan. I heard Master catch his breath, and then he said, in a quiet but intense tone, "Open your pussy so I can see more." I used my left hand to spread open my pussy lips, opening it wide for his viewing pleasure, and the change in angle was incredible. I felt even more pleasure tingling through my body as I rubbed myself, and my breaths became shallow pants. I inserted my finger again, pumping it several times, and I was very wet, as evidenced by a definite squelching, sucking sound.

Master closed his eyes. "So sloppy wet," he murmured. 

"Your pussy knows its master is watching," I panted, "and it likes it."

My hips bucked up again and I moaned and tossed my head. Pleasure was spiraling through me, that shivery tension building in my lower belly. I wanted to cum, wanted that release, and so I asked, "Master, may I cum?"

"I think not," he said, and frustration washed over me like cold water. I growled, and he just chuckled.

"Who are you?" he asked. It is totally unfair of him to expect me to be able to think when I'm on edge like this, but he expects it anyway.

"I am your whore," I said.

"Why?" he wanted to know.

"Because I need it, and I want to be," I forced out. My voice was breathy, and broke in the middle of my reply.

"And are you proud of it?"

"Yessss--" I gasped. "I am your whore, and I am proud to be."

"Again," he commanded, "and louder."

A spear of raw need lanced through me just then, and I moaned before I could stop myself. I panted hard, and swallowed before I could form the words. "I am your whore, Master, and I am proud to be!"

"Very good, pet," he murmured. "Cum."

My fingers were a frenzy of motion, bearing down on my swollen clit, and his voice snapped that coil. My hips reared high off the bed as my orgasm rushed through me, and my voice was a long, loud, wordless cry. Master watched with bright eyes as I writhed and panted and finally collapsed back on the bed, wrung out and sweaty and curling into a ball.

"That was a strong one," he observed, and I laughed weakly in between pants. "Yes, yes, it was," I said. He came and sat on the bed beside me, his hand smoothing over my back and brushing my bangs off my forehead as I lay there, waiting for my legs to stop trembling. Several minutes later, I felt like I might be able to move again, so I rolled over and stretched.

"How are you feeling, pet?" Master asked.

"I am well, Master, and thank you," I said, "for allowing your whore to cum for you."

"Mmm, yes, you ARE my whore, aren't you?" he mused, "and we still have to address the issue of your missed task."

Oh, shit. My heart fell. I knew he hadn't forgotten, but I was hoping.

"So here is your task for today," he began. "While I am gone, you will wear 5 anal beads for an hour and a half. After that, you will fill my pussy with 5 beads, for two hours."

I did not like the idea of the anal beads, at all. They are not my friends, I do not enjoy them, and I always experience some pain and bleeding when I use them. Damn, damn, damn! But all I said was, "Yes, Master."

"And you will begin now, because I want to be here when you insert them."

 I rolled off the bed and retrieved the beads, some lube, and a small towel. Just before I returned to the bed, I took a deep breath in acceptance, and walked back to my fate.

OK, yes, that was a bit dramatic, but it felt like that. I really hate these anal beads.

I popped the top of the lube and drizzled a good amount all over the beads. Then I knelt on the bed and propped my left foot on the mattress, bracing myself on my left hand. With the slicked beads in my right hand, I reached between my legs and began the process of inserting the beads. Master remained sitting on the bed, watching my progress, and I was careful to take my time and not rush. I get into trouble when I rush. As it was, I hissed and moaned, and whined as each bead slowly breached that tight ring of muscle and worked its way inside my ass. Finally, finally, they were all seated, and I wiped my hand on the towel and panted softly and waited for my body to adjust to the beads. I felt over-full, but not in pain, and that was OK.

Master left, then, with a good-bye kiss that nearly seared my brain. I was grateful - despite the dynamics of our relationship, I'm still a woman, and I like feeling that I'm more than a pussy and an ass and two breasts. I laid in bed until I heard the front door slam, then got up and dressed. And the real training period began. The first  hour went all right. I was very aware of the beads in my ass, of course. The full feeling never went away, and I was careful to use a pad in my panties to catch any leaks. It's gross, yes, and downright embarrassing, but it happens every time.

Once I got past the hour mark, however, things went pear-shaped rather quickly. My body now began to rebel against these foreign objects, and starting trying to expel them. I was OK, not great, for the next 15 minutes; I squeezed my ass muscles to stop the urge to defecate. After that, however, I lost the battle. Squeezing no longer worked, and the urge to go to the bathroom became stronger. I held off as long as I could, but then it became too much, and I got up from the kitchen chair to head for the bathroom. 

** Warning: This part gets squicky. Skip down to the marked area if the mention of feces disturbs you.  **

It was too late. You know how the body works, right? Those inner muscles contract, pushing waste (and anything else) down and out of the body. Oh, and air, too; that's why you often fart when you have to poop. So there I was, when a gust of air was forcefully expelled, shall we say, and I instantly knew I was in trouble. 

"No, no, no," I muttered, but I knew. And yes, it had happened - not only air had been expelled. Dammit! I stepped into the bathroom, shucked off my slacks, and peeled off my panties. Oh, gross. I sat on the toilet and Mother Nature did the rest, expelling the beads, though I did grab them with a flushable wipe before they were submerged. It is so very awkward, sitting there trying desperately to clean off as much fecal matter as possible from these beads before anything slips off, while still pooping. And it was a mix of poop and lube and blood. Yes, blood, I always bleed. I can only postulate that the beads irritate the inner lining and cause small abraded areas which then ooze blood.  And I cried. Anyway, to spare you the more horrid details, it took several rounds with toilet paper and wipes, and three separate flushes, before everything was cleaned and tidied and able to be put away.

** End of squickiness **

 After all that, I was drained, literally. And I still had a task to go. 

I took another set of beads and some regular lube, and laid down on the bed. I coated the beads with the lube, then popped the first bead and then the second into my pussy without any problem. The third one took a more firm push, as it was starting to get a little full in there. The fourth bead was harder yet; I lifted my hips and shoved, and winced and gasped as a sharp stab of pain pierced my lower abdomen. Damn, that hurt. I sank back to the mattress and took a deep breath, willing myself to relax. The four beads inside me were jammed together, I swear, and there just wasn't a hell of a lot of room left for the last bead. Still, Master specified 5 beads, so 5 beads I would do.

I pushed, and shoved, and pushed some more, and moaned and swore in my discomfort, but at last I got the fifth bead in and managed to make it stay there. I got up and redressed, again, and started the clock on my two-hour countdown. I could feel the beads clacking against each other as I walked, and when I sat back on the wooden kitchen chair, I could feel the beads pressing against each other and my inner walls. It was tight in there, and I could feel them stretching me. It wasn't exactly painful, but it wasn't all that comfortable, either. Every time I stood up or walked around or shifted on the chair, I could feel them moving.

I was quite relieved when the time had passed and I could remove the beads. I could feel them stretching me as they came out, and when they were all out, I felt stretched and empty and tired and sore. Still, I had to count this as a successful training session, and I was eager to be able to report to my Master that I had fulfilled the tasks he had set for me.