The First Six Months

The weeks of August were hot as hell. I was grateful to be working night shift, to be able to avoid the 130+ degree days, but being on opposite shifts meant we only had a few hours to chat. And those few hours a day it seems like that's all we did. Most of the conversations were about sex; both of us being deprived of that which was as much a necessity for us as eating and drinking and sleeping. And I know at least for me, it drove me to distraction regularly, wanting to fuck him so badly; knowing he was so close but might as well have been a million miles away. Each afternoon I would go into work wondering if he was going to call me that night; and still losing my breath every time I saw his number appear on my phone. The first thing I did was to check my e-mails for letters from him; there were always five, ten, sometimes more. He sent me letters just to tell me he was thinking about me, he sent me songs to describe his feelings for me, he wrote me to tell me how his day was going. And he honestly seemed to care about what I was doing, and thinking, and feeling. I felt so many emotions surface that I never imagined I would feel, some I had felt many years before but thought had died and would never surface again; emotions that I still do not have the words capable of fully describing my happiness. The feeling of being loved so deeply was something I had never experienced before.

I'm not really sure how we managed to fall in love. We are polar opposites in personality, astrologically born on opposing sides of the zodiacal wheel. He is an incredibly rational man. If something does not touch and immediately impact his world, he has very few thoughts or feelings about it. He is hard, not uncaring but not compassionate either. His basic philosophy is that he does everything he can to make himself happy, and if anyone else can't do the same, he sure as hell is not about to feel sorry for them. Don't get me wrong, he's not cruel or evil. He worries about me in a way no one else has ever done. He worries about my welfare. He's more concerned about my health than I am. He's constantly reminding me to be careful when I'm out alone at night. I on the other hand am nurturing, concerned about the world, the environment, and the people around me. I will sit and listen to a subordinate tell me about his problems and then suggest different ways to confront his issues, and offer advice when I am able. I believe there is good and magic in the world around us, and I actually notice the beauty of the surrounding world. Sure, a lot of people would probably classify me as a little over the deep end; in his own words a "fucking weirdo." And I'm constantly talking about things he does not understand.

But at the same time, there are so many things we have in common. It seems like daily we find something new that we share. We like so many of the same foods, we have similar philosophies on the world around us. We often think the same things at the same time. We have discussions where, once we've finally been able to decipher what the other was trying to say, we discover that we've been fighting an argument of agreement the entire time. It has definitely been a learning experience.

So after August came September. Surprisingly enough, even in this gods-forsaken place of the world, the calendar has not changed. But he was getting ready to go home for his leave, and he would be gone for three weeks. On the way out, he managed to get up to see me for four of the most incredible days of my life. We spent ever second that I was not working together. Finally, one night I spent the entire night with him, getting to know how enjoyable it was to spend the entire night sleeping beside him. Not that I was really able to sleep all that well. It doesn't seem to matter how tired we both are, we still seem to turn each other on fire when we're close to each other. But we didn't just spend four days in bed, either. We ate together. We wandered around together. We talked to other people, we talked to each other. It was so incredibly wonderful just to have a partial semblance of normality, and being able to be with him was fantastic. But still, even at this point we were still simply two people deeply in love, enjoying each others' presence and bodies. And at the end of the four days, right before he was leaving to go home, I admitted to him the one thing I had been denying since our first night together. He was the best I'd ever had. Yes, he was the first black man I'd ever fucked. He was the first black man I'd ever fallen in love with. And he was by far the best man I'd ever been to bed with; he fucked me better than I have ever been fucked in my life. But it was so much more than just the incredible sex; he treated me better than any other man I'd ever known.

So I fell in love with him. Then he started to introduce me to new ideas, things I'd never done before; things I'd only read about in stories or things other men had tried to get me to do that I had no interest in. It started with suggestions about anal sex, which I was intensely opposed to. Several men had tried to fuck me in the ass before but it hurt so badly, and wasn't really something I wanted anyway. So I refused it. But I had read a lot of erotic stories where it was described as being very pleasurable. It just seemed so, I don't know, dirty or something; but when he brought up the idea, I was willing to try it. Then he started sending me stories about BDSM sex, relationships, and ideas; and had me tell him my feelings about it. I realized the ideas were turning me on. I had always preferred to be submissive in bed, but in my daily life I was actually strong, independent, with a dominant personality. I had tried the whole "good little Southern wife serving her husband's every desire" for my first marriage; after seven years I couldn't take it and left. Yet something about Master Brenin made me want to serve him, to submit to him, to be his slave. After considerable reflection, I came to the conclusion that the difference between the two was that the first was forced upon me; this time it was something I voluntarily chose. More and more he helped me to learn that not only was this natural for me, it was going to be something I would want for the rest of my life.

While I was home on leave, I missed him terribly. All I could think about was how much I wanted to be with him. I called him nearly every night (which was incredibly expensive!), and every afternoon I would try to be online at the same time I knew he would be on so we could chat. Because of the eight hour time difference, I would get up in the middle of the night just to call him and hear his voice. Often I could not fall asleep from wanting to talk to him so badly, so I would stay up until it was a reasonable hour to call him.

My Master gave me the task of not cumming from my own husbands cock. For some reason, even though it sounds impossible, it was easier than you might think. I didnt want my husbands cock, I didnt want to cum from him. My husband could no longer satisfy me. When I was allowed to cum, I felt like I was cheating on my Master; sometimes even when I had permission I couldn't cum, and when I did cum it was only because I was imagining him fucking me instead of my husband. While my husband used me, all I could think about was my Master's touch, how wonderful he is, how nothing, no one, no cock can ever compare to his again. I was in love with him. Being a very honest person, the one and only time I did cum from my husbands cock without getting permission, My Master was furious and told me I would be punished. It only happened because I was careless enough to be fantasizing that Master Brenin was fucking me. I felt like the world had ended. His anger and disappointment in me was unbearable.

Also while I was home, my Master had asked me to pick up some books for him. While I was looking for them, I started researching information on my own to learn more about this lifestyle that I wanted so much, but knew I needed to learn so much more about. I even got a book that was a collection of short stories from the points of view of Masters and slaves, which I would hand-type into e-mails for my Master so we could discuss the things that turned me on or off, that I didn't understand, or that I just thought he would enjoy. The more I learned, the deeper I became captivated.

At first, Master Brenin started the process by getting me comfortable talking about my wants and desires, my pleasure sexually. Talking about my thoughts and feelings is something that has always been difficult for me, and talking about sexual fantasies was excruciating. I started slowly, and found it easier as time went on, the more I practiced talking to him; and the single-most thing that helped me was the fact that he never made fun of me, never found anything I wanted to do disgusting, and always supported and encouraged sharing my ideas. The first time I shared an experience where I had masturbated while thinking of him was hard, but he enjoyed it so much and was so happy that I was able to share it with him that it became a normal practice for us. I had been in transit coming back from leave, waiting around for my flight and reading erotic stories and imagining the two of us in place of the characters, getting hornier with each one, even though I didn't find they appealed to me as something I would really want. And then I read a story entitled Not Until Dawn. I love to be teased, and it was a story about a man teasing a woman for an entire night, not allowing her to cum until dawn. After I read it, I decided it was time to try and take a nap, but I couldn't sleep.

All I could think about was how much I wanted him, to feel his kiss and his touch, how much I needed his cock deep inside me. I could feel my clit aching and my pussy dripping. I looked around the room; there was only one other girl there, on the opposite side of the building, asleep. I knew I would never be able to sleep if I didn't cum, but it seemed like such a public place, anyone could come in. Could I manage to rub it without giving myself away? I was covered up, after all. On my stomach, I reached down between my legs, but feeling myself through my pants was just not going to be enough. I slipped my hand into my pants, feeling how swollen my clit was and how wet I was. I closed my eyes and imagined him behind me, sliding his cock into my cunt, penetrating me deeply as only he can. As I fingered my clit, rubbing it with my pussy juices, I imagined his arms around me, his hand rubbing me as he fucked me deep and hard. I imagined what it would feel like having him in my ass, I imagined him wetting his thumb with my juices and slowly pushing it into my ass. I could almost hear his voice in my ear, telling me how good my pussy is like he does, enjoying how wet I was, and plunging his cock all the way into me until he couldn't go in any further. I could feel how close to cumming I was, almost there, trying not to breathe too heavily or move too much; then I realized I really didn't care if anyone knew what I was doing, I needed it too much. In my head I was calling his name, telling him I was going to cum, telling him how good his cock felt inside me. I heard him tell me to cum all over his cock, tell me to cum as he came inside me. I could almost feel the hot rush of his cum inside me, the way his cock gets so hard right before he cums, feel him inside me as I came all over my hand. I lay there for a few minutes, shaking, thinking "Thank you, Master for what you have given me."

The next step was to complete tasks designed by Master to educate me and progress my training. My first exceptionally challenging task was designed to prepare me to be taken anally.

I really didn't want to complete the task I'd been given. In fact, I had even told Master that I didn't think I'd be able to do it. After all, I was still trying to get used to the unpleasant idea of having anything in my ass, and I was still sore from the day prior when I had to stick two of my fingers in, all the way up to the knuckles. And when I got the message - that I had to find a toy for my ass while fingering my pussy; then a toy for both my ass and my pussy -- I felt the panic begin. I didn't even know how to respond. And of course, when I told Master I didn't think his servant slut was mentally strong enough to complete his task, he enjoyed it so much he gave me 24 hours instead of a week.

So suddenly I found myself searching through my room, looking for something to use as a "toy." Not being a toy kind of person, I didn't own any specific to the purpose at hand. And of course, without much further guidelines other than it didn't have to be big, just had to go deep in my ass, I chose the smallest items I felt I could use and still please my Master. I finally remembered I had brand new paintbrushes I had bought that I hadn't used yet. About 5 inches long, about as big around as my finger, that would work for my ass. Then for my pussy. I decided against the shampoo bottle I had used the week prior; it was just too big to deal with at the same time I was going to have to be putting something in my ass. I settled on a smaller bottle; not too small though.

I made up my bed, set up my camera, got everything ready, still torn between not wanting to do what I was about to do and pleasing my Master. The first thing I did was try two fingers in my cunt, and I was shocked to find I was already wet. Yes, I really was getting turned on by completing tasks for my Master. Then I started the camera and took a few shots just to get the proper angle and distancing. Unable to put it off any longer, I grabbed the brush, started the camera again, put two of my fingers back in my pussy. As the camera started taking pictures, I started sliding the brush into my ass, anticipating the painfulness I knew I was going to experience. 10 continuous shots on the camera doesn't take long, and I had to stop to check the camera position again. Not quite right, had to adjust my position, then I started again. This time once I got the brush in maybe half an inch or so, I felt it start to slide in easier. This wasn't as painful as I expected it to be; the smoothness of the polished wooden handle was helping. The camera stopped just about the time I got the brush all the way in. I reached back to check the angle again; shit still not quite right, had to make some more adjustments and start over again.

This time the brush slid in smoothly, and I could feel the brush sliding past the two fingers I had in my pussy, feeling the surprising amount of wetness that was starting. And suddenly when the brush was in as far as I could get it I felt my cunt was shudder with pleasure and my juices start to flow even more. I shoved a third finger inside me as the camera finished its 10 shot set. When I reached back to reset the camera, the brush slipped just a little further inside me. Even as my mind was saying, no I'm not supposed to be enjoying this, my body was enjoying it anyway. Even after reading stories that peaked my interest in anal, I never dreamed it would feel that good. I reset the camera and started pulling the brush out to get the pictures Master had asked for and suddenly I knew I was on the verge of cumming. I couldn't, I wouldn't, I hadn't asked nor been given permission to cum. I stopped, afraid to move anything, my breathing fast and heavy, trying desperately to think of anything but the sensations coursing through my body, trying to fight the desire to just give in and face the consequences later. Finally I concentrated on the only thing I could think of to control my rebellious body; I thought of having to tell Master that I had disobeyed him. Finally I was able to slow my breathing enough to continue with the pics. I managed to finish the set of pictures without cumming, but just barely. My juices were running down the fingers inside my cunt, dripping down my hand; I was so wet that the ring I was wearing on my little finger -- our ring, the symbol of the eternal love between my Master and I -- nearly slipped off my finger.

Next set. I had to take pics of the bottle in my pussy and the brush in my ass. Not again, I was afraid I wouldn't be able to stop myself from cumming this time. But I had no choice really, I had to please my Master, so therefore I would. I started the camera again and repeated the process. Trying to go slowly to prevent getting too close to the edge. Stopping and concentrating on not being aroused in between sets of the flash. Slowly pushing the bottle into my aching, dripping cunt. Slowly sliding the brush into my not-so-innocent-any-more ass. Shaking with the frustration of continuing without the sweet release I was craving.

I know that Master came up with this task to exercise control over me. I know that Master gave me this task because he knows I am turned on by his tasks, even when he wants me to do something I don't want to do. But I now know that there was another reason Master came up with this particular task. Master wants to bring me pleasure; and Master knew that eventually I would find pleasure in anal. And now, the next time I see my Master I will have something new to beg for. I will beg for him to fuck my ass, I will beg him to allow me to cum with his beautiful black cock deep inside my ass, just like I have begged him to let me cum from his hand or his cock inside my cunt, or his mouth on my clit. And I know that I will enjoy it, even as my ass still stings from today's assignment. My Master knows what his servant slut wants and needs, and always thinks of how to make me happy. And for that, for the way he knows me and loves me, for how amazingly wonderful he treats me, for all that I love him so very much. The next time Master Brenin came to see me was the first time I had ever allowed a man to take my ass. Even with the preparation and my own anticipation I was still worried. But I knew I could trust him completely. When he told me he knew what he was doing, I knew instinctively that he was not bragging, he was simply stating a fact.

He came to pick me up from work and we drove out to a secluded place. This time we had to rely on the truck as our "love nest," but I didn't mind. That just meant I didn't have to be quiet. He started out having me ride him, it felt absolutely delicious to have his cock inside me again. I got closer and closer, until I had to ask permission to cum. At first, he didn't say anything, just watched me for a minute. And then.

"No," was all he said. I couldn't help myself.

"No," I cried, immediately knowing that I was wrong, immediately afraid that was going to cost me for the rest of the night. The look that crossed his face was priceless, even though I stopped moving, even stopped breathing in an attempt to stop the orgasm threatening to overcome me.

"What did you just say?" he asked, as a look somewhere between disbelief, anger, and amusement crossed his face.

"I'm sorry, Master!" I gasped as I hung my head, waiting for the punishment. But it didn't come.

"Continue," he said after a moment. This time he did let me cum.

Then he turned me over and told me to get on my hands and knees. After I complied, he spanked me a little. Just enough to get me wet, to make my asscheeks tingle delightfully. I felt him caress my ass, then dip his fingers into my pussy juices to moisten my asshole. I took a deep breath, too incredibly aroused to be very afraid. Then I felt the head of his cock penetrate me, and I felt like I was being split open.

"No, please . . ." I said, involuntarily moving forward in an attempt to get away from the pain.

"Relax," he ordered. "Push back."

"I can't," I whimpered. "It hurts, it hurts so bad."

"I know it hurts," he answered gently but firmly. "You can take it, it will be ok." He pushed a little harder while holding onto my hips to keep me in place. "Stop fighting me, damn it!"