Sarah's Journey into Submission

An hour later, as the plug had been eased out of my swollen hole and tossed to the floor between my legs, I discovered that it was smaller than most real cocks, but not by much. She had called it a number three, so apparently there were smaller ones available. I suspected that I would be feeling larger ones in the future. I was to be opened, and I feared the process would be painful.

"Feeling a little high?" asked Mrs. Lucy. "There is nothing like a good session to get the endorphins pumping."

Any cruelty she had demonstrated before was gone now, replaced by her cheery enthusiasm and soft touches as we lay in bed. I felt drained by the experience, yet tingly and exhilarated as well. My buttocks glowed. My anus felt cored and scoured, aching and oddly empty. My stretched sphincter would throb and contract for hours, reminding me of the outrageous things she had done to it.

"Tomorrow you should be ready for a number four."

Chapter 6

The next day, it was much the same, and I showed up at Mrs. Lucy' door sparkly clean (inside and out), ready to serve, and horny as hell! As I stood there knocking on the door, my ass throbbing with the first day's bruises showing though yesterday's crimson flush... I had every expectation that I would be punished again, even if I didn't do anything to deserve it. Mrs. Lucy had said as much the first day after all, that I would be spanked raw every day this week.

The day before, she had filled me with a plug she called a number three. My anus still throbbed with that memory as I stood there, but I knew my swollen opening would soon harbour a larger one.

I knew that the dreadful progression of torments and humiliation would continue. I felt like a helpless addict who knows that his habit will eventually destroy him, but I knew I must follow the path that had been set before me. The devil baptizes with fire.

Exhausted, ravenous and sore, I stepped into the apartment for the third time and was not disappointed.

"Turn around."

"Here it comes," I thought, and her fingertips were light on my bottom. When she reached down to run cool fingers over my blazing buns, I arced up to meet the touch like a stroked cat. I could feel the gooseflesh rise in their wake. I had been spanked and strapped and paddled for two days, and had welts on my welts. It was on fire, but I could feel a glow inside, deep where it aches when I want a cock.

"Bend over."

Her finger followed the furrow down, stopping at my asshole. "Is this sore as well?" She tapped at the door with a sharp nail, and I felt it open. "You're already learning, good! We can't have you going all tight when a real guy wants to use you. You're going to get your ass fucked this weekend, and I want you to be well opened by that time." She opened a jar on the vanity, and a moment later I felt something cold and greasy being pushed in deep with a hard finger, twisting it before adding another. I whined. "You are a bit sore," she observed. "That's good. You should be very sensitive by the time you're ready for a real cock."

"Yes, Mistress."

She smacked my ass with a hard palm, her other now holding something for me to admire. "I like a girl to see what's coming."

The plug was bigger than the one she had stuffed me with the day before. They were sized by number; this one looked like it might be a number four. She made me kiss it, had me suck it and then let me wait for it while she took her time greasing the monster and packing more lube inside me. I have learned since then that lubricant tends to be absorbed by the anal membranes after a while. If I knew then, I would have guessed what was in store for me.

I took a deep breath and pushed back when I felt the point of the plug begin to nose into me. The tapered shaft seemed to grow as it advanced, until stretched muscles protested the impossibility of this accommodation. She backed off a little and cooed encouragement. I breathed out and slumped forward, commanding my body to relax. When the plug advanced again I felt the mouth open. There was a brief flare of pain as the widest part of the plug oozed inside, then the ring of muscle contracted upon the narrower neck, holding it fast.

I shifted my hips, feeling the muscles flex and adjust inside me as the pain subsided. A quick smack to my ass brought that pain back. I bit my lip.

"Turn and kneel."

Her red silk robe was open in the front, and she was naked under it. She leaned back in her chair and hooked her knees over my shoulders.

"Eat."

It was a sweet duty. She had such power over me and I had made a gift of it, surrendering to her. This was the only time when I could exercise control – by stealing hers. When my Mistress gnawed her lips and sank her claws into my shoulders, the power to cause it was mine.

Practice had improved me. I knew that the flutter of my tongue over her clit should be back and forth rather than up and down, that I should begin with a deep tonguing, and that taking her mound in my mouth and sucking could make her clutch my hair and growl. I paused when she came, but she murmured urgently: "Again! Again!" and pressed her heels into my back

It was over too soon. It always was.

She stood up and patted my head. Once again, a belt was fastened around my waist, the strap dangling between my legs pulled tight enough to make me jump, then buckled and locked with a small padlock. It seemed I would have a companion with me while I went about my chores for the day.

When she returned hours later, the plug I was sure, had doubled in size while she was away. The hole around it was throbbing. My full bladder didn't help either, and soon enough I was back to being bare ass up in the air and a paddle in her hand.

"You know what this is for don't you?" she laughed.

"I've done everything you asked me to," I whined.

"Petulance is punishable," she warned. "You have performed better than I expected, actually."

I felt something slender, cold and hard, like a skeleton's finger, sliding down my butt crease, searching. It opened my lips and went on, finding my clit. I hadn't had any release all day, and the little invader I wore during my time alone earlier had only turned me on more than I would have expected, so I rocked back to meet it. I humped the handle of the paddle like it was her hand.

I was just getting into it when she took the handle away. I saw it in front of my face.

"You've soiled it," she whispered. "Clean it off."

I knew she didn't want me to want me to wipe if with a rag. I opened my mouth and the wooden handle slid slowly between my lips.

"I just want to give you a souvenir."

There was an explosion. The paddle rebounded with a sharp crack, the impact followed by an expanding ball of pain.

Yesterday, a spanking had still been an erotic novelty. Today it just hurt. Spending a couple of hours with a wedge in my gut didn't help my disposition any either. Mrs. Lucy had warned me that the game wouldn't always be fun and any reasons for being there made less sense all the time. Love? Sex? Penance? Why was I squirming on the floor, getting my ass beat by a woman I hardly knew? It was just too much, and too early in the week.

"Raise up a little. Offer it to me."

I did, wondering how many more there would be. I pursed my lips and clenched my fists and took it, a dozen blows. A few minutes, that was all it took. How long is a few minutes sitting on a hot stove?

Then her hands were moving to release me, and the plug was gently twisted and pulled until my ass loosed its grip enough to let go. I sighed as I collapsed on the floor, Ms. Lucy bending down to straddle me and kiss my forehead. She didn't waste her breath on apologies, or sympathies. Words would have spoiled it. My resentment evaporated with the kiss though, along with any decision to abandon this madness while I still had the resolve. You wonder that I was so easy, that she could simply kiss it and make it well. I was nineteen then. I was in lust. I still believed in happy engine and deathless love. I returned the kiss.

She spent a moment grinning down at me, reading every thought, seeing the exits closing behind my eyes, like windblown doors. Then she took my hands in hers and flopped me over onto my back. I gasped as my ass touched the floor, and she pushed my legs apart and dove in.

I never felt any teeth. She just sucked me like a ripe peach while her tongue flicked over the best spots. My first impulse was to grab her head with both hands and ride it, but I wasn't about to step out of line by touching her without permission. With my ass boarding red hot under me, I couldn't forget that she was in control.

Maybe that's why I came big time.

I could feel the arteries in my neck swelling. I clawed the hardwood. I made weird animal noise.

When I was down to just panting and vibrating, Mrs. Lucy gave me a peck on the cheek and I was dismissed, but not before she showed me the butt plug and leather chastity belt that I would take with me.

The base was flared so that it wouldn't fall in and get lost. Once again, I had to get on my knees and suck it like a cock first, then turn around and raise my ass while she worked a glob of lube into me, twisting her fingers around more than I thought she needed to.

"You're going to wear this until you get home," she whispered into my ear once it was nestled inside. She pulled the crotch strap tight against my pussy and between my cheeks, locking it with a padlock.

Dismissed, I took the shortest way there, and didn't look up at anyone until I was safely in the door. No one had said anything to me on the way, but I couldn't help feeling that everyone knew I had a plastic cock shifting around in my ass with every step I took. I purposeful hadn't taken the bus and instead chose to walk the whole way, not trusting myself enough not to jump or cry out if I had to sit down. It was one torture traded for another.

Chapter 7

The next day when I entered the apartment and my naked ass had been bared for the fourth day in a row, Mrs. Lucy commented that I hadn't really been reddened enough the day before.

"Mistress, please spank my ass very hard with a leather strap."

"Bare ass," she corrected. I wondered if this litany was one she had heard many times, the standard form, or if she had thought about it this morning over breakfast.

One way or the other, I had varied the script, and could expect the severity of my punishment to be adjusted accordingly. I repeated my request with chattering teeth, including the missed worked. I should have been reluctant to enter, knowing what waited within, but that hadn't been the case.

She crossed her arms. "How many strokes do you think I should give you?"

I was flustered. No number had been mentioned. If I asked for leniency; cowardice might only earn me more, but I had felt the strap before, and courage came hard.

"Fifty, Mistress?"

"Wrong answer. Try again."

I closed my eyes. "Seventy five? Please, Mistress?"

"You try my patience."

My lip started to tremble. It wasn't fair that I should have to decide. How could I be expected to play when the rules were decided by whim? Then I got it.

"As many as you wish, Mistress."

She reached down and softly took a handful of my hair, pulled me to my feet and dragged me to the center of the room. Soon I was a living hammock, hanging from the ceiling by my wrists and ankles. A spreader bar kept my legs wide open. A sling supported my back, without protecting my ass. I was almost comfortable, and a hundred percent helpless.

Mrs. Lucy took her time adjusting the tension in the ropes, until my ass was lower than the rest of me. Then she rolled a stool and a utility cart over and sat down between my thighs. I couldn't see everything on the cart, my left leg was blocking the view, but the things I could see made me swallow hard.

She probed me with fingers first, working lube into me and massaging me inside until I began to relax. "Sore?"

"A little, Mistress."

She nodded. "We're asking your sphincter to do things it has never done before. It's a muscle. Training will condition it."

She slipped the speculum into me. I think she had been storing it in the freezer. When she opened it, I gritted my teeth.

"Relax." She used the flashlight to inspect me. "No damage. I would say you're good to go. I can't decide whether to start with the asshole stretching or warm you up with the strap. I guess I'll trade off, it will be less boring that way."

She stuffed me with a string of beads, but perhaps beads isn't the right word. These orbs were nearly the size of gold balls, and I did a fair amount of gasping and squirming, but was patient. She teased me open and she pressed them home. They were stainless steel, heavy and icy cold, and soon my guts felt packed. When there was nothing outside of my except a loop of string for retrieving them, she stood up.

"That should hold you for now." She picked up a wide leather strap that had been split into tails at the end. "Keep your eyes open. I want you to watch it coming."

I don't know what was worse, seeing the strap swinging toward me, or reading the glee on her face. I had asked for an ass whipping, but the choice of targets was up to her, of course. My open thighs were irresistible, and she lashed enthusiastically to the inside, where the skin was tender and thin.

She paused to move the stool out of the way and give herself swinging room. Then she started on my ass. Would my poor buns ever have time to fully recover between thrashings? The first stroke reawakened the dormant paints of yesterday and the day before. I twitched and twisted until the ropes were pulled taut and she had to hold my ankle to stop me from swinging and spoiling her aim.

But the time came, as it usually does, when my mind shifted over. Unendurable pain became a sort of excitation, a holt to my nerves, transformed by a weird masochist alchemy into pleasure.

"Push out the first ball."

I stared in confusion for a moment. She laid a hard one across one cheek, enforcing her command with a shot of pain.

"Come on! Lay an egg for me!" Another flare of pain encouraged me.

I pushed, thinking absurdly that this was like giving birth, with my feet over my head and a coach between my legs. I felt the first ball pop free and nestle between my cheeks. IT felt hot. My body warmed it.

She hit me again. "Good girl. Show me another."

The second ball emerged. Now I had sort of an absurd tail swinging below. She tapped it with a fingertip and set it swinging. "Again."

When there were three, she used them for a handle and jerked the rest of the string free. I yelped. She just laughed and tossed the greasy bauble into the sink for me to clean later.

She set the strap aside and greased the inflatable plug that I had already learned to dread. "You can hold this while I get down to some serious ass paddling."

Chapter 8

Most people were clueless. They didn't understand that my marks, even though most of them were in places that didn't show when clothed, were like military decorations or something. They didn't understand that after a night without my ass cork I was feeling this major void. They didn't know that the next morning I would reach back to spread my own cheeks and welcome the next plug home.

They didn't know that Mrs. Lucy and I were right for each other in some gothic sort of way, and when I showed up at her door on day five with ass throbbing, I knew it wouldn't buy me anything.

Bent over the bench in the center of the punishment room, my hands drawn down the legs of the post and secured firmly to the floor, my muscles stretched and my shoulder blades pulled back right, a belt around my waist holding me down, my back arched and the cleft of my buttocks open, my legs split wide apart and chained to the floor, knees strapped to the legs of the bench and my collar secure so that I couldn't turn my head, there was no place I would rather be.

"What can we fill your empty hole with today?" she teased.

"Whatever you wish, Mistress." Came my reply and she chuckled at that.

Five days ago I was so resistant when she introduced me to anal penetration, but now I had come to enjoy it. I had a lovely pussy, there was no doubt about that, but apparently it was too hungry and eager. I had to be taken in a way that required capitulation. I knew that if I tightened against her the violation would be painful.

She brushes the opening with a finger and watches as it opens like a flower. Not yet.

She pivots on her heel and strides into the bathroom, where she takes a tube of menthol tooth gel and squeezed a generous dollop on two fingers. Returning to her victim, she slides the fingers into my anus, massaging in the gel. I squirm as much as my binding allow; the menthol burns fiercely for a few minutes, then subsides to a cold heat inside of me.

"This will keep you hot for later."

She picks up the paddle, and my lower lip quivers.

Later, the room is quiet except for my laboured breathing. My ass was again blazing hot and a plug nestled deep inside me. Putting the paddle down, she takes the base of the plug and twists it inside me. My breath catches, and as I feel the ring of muscle relax around the plug I wait for her to take it out. Instead she chuckles and pushes it deeper, rocking it back and forth.

All I can do is whimper. "You know when the day comes, I'm not going to take it lightly don't you? Going to force your face down and push... and as long as I've got you tied down tight enough, you're not going to go anywhere. Maybe squirm a little while I plough you in the ass?"

My crestfallen look is my only reply and she returns to her stool then, swinging her legs over my back and lifting me by the hair to tuck her crotch under my face.

"Thank-me."

Chapter 9

The sixth day passed by swiftly, and like every afternoon before, it was spent with me getting my ass paddled, strapped, spanked or stuffed until it was filled to bursting. When Ms. Lucy returned each night, I would be bent over the nearest item of furniture – table, dresser, bed, and given my strokes for the day. .

The whole week, I was constantly stuffed, then paddled or spanked or strapped some more.

More often than not, I would be sent to fetch the implement for her. She had a closet full of anal plugs as varied as they got, and I spent a good part of most afternoons wearing one. She tested me with her fingers before deciding on the diameter. She always selected one thick enough to hurt, but soon enough they hardly bothered me at all.

At first I had a hard time of it, my ass kept clenching around the thing, and I had to relax so it wouldn't hurt. When I did that, it would ooze in deeper, like it was alive. When I sat, it was one cheek or the other. The damn strap was right on my clit too, and that only made me horny throughout the day.

The ubiquitous plugs, so painful and alien to me at first, became almost comfortable as they nestled deep inside. The forced muscles abandoned resistance, and yielded to the pressure, relaxing and inviting these visitors inside, where they were greeted with a hug. When I knelt beside her, my position snugged the crotch strap tighter, deepening my impalement and tormenting my clit with exquisite friction. When nothing inhabited me, I felt abandoned. My plugs were a gift from her, a continual reminder that I was being prepared at her pleasure, that my body was acquiring new function.