Ch 2: The Ground Beneath Her Knees

Chloe nodded. "I know how important this is," she said. "But I mean, I'd be a little cautious if you told me you were getting married six months after you met someone, and this is a lot more serious. I just want to make sure."

"It is more serious," Rachele said. "I hope we'll get married too."

"Really?" Chloe said, lifting her head.

"We talked about him collaring me, and I want that to be for life."

"For life," Chloe said.

"And he wants me pierced here," Rachele said, moving Chloe's hand to her clit. "For a ring with his initial."

"Pierce your clit? That's crazy," Chloe said. "I love needles and I've never done that. You could really hurt yourself."

"Not the clit, the hood," Rachele said. She lay on her back with her legs straight, and squeezed them together. "Look down," she said.

Chloe looked over down at Rachele's pubis, and could see the hood of her clit poking out from between her labia. Rachele took it between her fingers gently, and stretched it upwards. "Through here."

Chloe looked down at herself, but couldn't see her own. "I think yours is bigger than mine," she said. Her friend touched her between the legs, and said, "It's angled differently or something. It doesn't stick out the same way. Apparently not everyone can get this piercing. The other option would be one of my labia but honestly I don't like being asymmetrical."

Chloe laughed, then gently pulled up the soft flesh over her friend's clit. She moved her head to look at it more closely. The more excited her friend got, the more prominent it seemed to become. "So you'd have a piercing right through here?" she asked, gently pinching the hood between her fingers.

"Yes," her friend said. "With a ring through it.And then a letter R hanging from it."

"All the time?"

"Pretty much," her friend said. "I mean not in airports I guess."

Chloe stretched the hood with her fingers, and licked it softly, then let go, and circled Rachele's clit with her tongue, getting underneath and lifting it up.

"I'll have to lick his initial if I want to lick your clit?" Chloe asked.

"If you want to lick his property," her friend said.

Chloe let her tongue do her thinking, for the moment.

--

The next morning over coffee, Rachele said suddenly, "Chloe, you call yourself Kevin's slut, right? I remember one time it was written on your ass with magic marker."

Chloe nodded. "I most certainly am."

"But you don't belong to him, you don't think of yourself as property," Rachele said. "So what does that mean?"

"Simple. I'm only a slut for him," Chloe said. "Anything he wants to do to me sexually, he does. Obviously I have limits but I've never used my safeword. Sometimes he'll suggest something and I'll just say no, but otherwise, he does what he wants, whenever he wants, wherever he wants."

"But you don't like me being a slave?" Rachele said.

"He doesn't control me," Chloe said. "I don't dress for him, except on dates or play nights. I call him Kevin. He might force me to my knees but I don't kneel for him. I'd tell him to fuck off if he made rules for me.

"I'm his slut," she said. "His sex toy. He uses me however he wants, but outside of that we're just Kevin and Chloe."

"You're a slut for him, but not for me?" Rachele said.

"It's different with you," Chloe said. "You don't use me. I wouldn't want you to."

"But I'll never do the things to you that he does," Rachele said.

"Would you want to?"

"Never," Rachele said. "But what he does to you sometimes affects what you and I can do."

"It's not the same," Chloe said stubbornly.

"You're used to me being single, or mostly single," Rachele said. "Now I'm involved, seriously. You've always had Kevin. Now I have someone, and it's going to change things.

"There were plenty of times I wanted to see you but you were with Kevin," Rachele said. "Or nights you came over but didn't want to do anything because you were still recovering from something, so I had to hold you and see how you were bruised or marked and I couldn't have you."

She pushed the chair out, and got up to stand behind Chloe, her hands on her shoulders.

"It's going to be different, Chloe," she said, kissing the top of her head. "I will be busier. I will have work to do, and training, and rules to follow. But it doesn't change how I feel about you. Or how much I want you."

Chloe put her head on her arms on the table, and Rachele kept stroking her hair. "I"m not leaving you. Don't leave me."

4

The next weekend, in the entry way to her apartment, she was working hard. She felt proud every time her lips met the zipper of her owner's fly. She had kept up her training, and his small sounds and the occasional "good job" or "what a good cocksucker you are" made her feel accomplished. She was truly his cocksucker now, or at least learning to be. He'd started training her not long after they'd met, telling her she would need to relearn from the ground up everything she knew about blowjobs.

--

"What do you mean that I have a lot to learn?" she had asked a few months ago, surprised, having just swallowed his come. She was hurt and a little angry at this reception to what she had just done.

"You did that very well," he said. "But not the way I want it done."

"I've never had complaints before," she said. "What did I do wrong?"

"You did nothing wrong; most guys would be thrilled with a blowjob like that," he said. "But you're missing the point."

She looked at him. Wasn't the point of a blowjob pretty damn clear?

"You were focused on a goal," he said. "You were working to make me come, and you succeeded."

She tilted her head quizzically. Of course she was.

"My orgasm isn't your goal," he said. "It's mine. I decide if I want to come, and when, and how. If I want to come fast in your mouth, I can do that with my hands much better than you can. That's not a criticism; I just have a lot more experience."

"Is that why you kept moving my hand away?" she asked. "I thought you liked it at the end."

"I don't want anything but your mouth on me," he said. "At the end I was getting too close to keep interrupting you so I just let it go. But in future you'll get spanked or belted if you touch me with your hands."

She considered that, nodded.

"Your goal when you're sucking my cock is to serve me," he said. "That's it. Service. I want to feel you offering your mouth and throat to me, over and over, slowly and deliberately, with no expectation or goal."

She had never thought about it that way but it sounded erotic. "So you don't want me to make you come?"

"Serving me like that will make me come," he said. "It will take longer, but if you do it properly it'll be a lot more intense."

"Properly?" she asked, skeptically.

"The way I want it done," he clarified. "But in the kind of relationship we're talking about, those are the same thing."

"I don't understand," she said.

"Doing something 'properly' would mean that you were doing it to my specifications," he said. "That would be your definition of correctness."

"And you would train me?" she asked.

"Yes," he said. "I need to break you of some bad habits, and you would need to work on taking me much more deeply than you did today. But the most important thing is to mind your place and keep in mind what your focus should be."

"Serving," she said. "Properly."

--

As she knelt in front of him now, she thought of the amount of time she'd spent kneeling like this in front of the dildo he'd had her purchase. She would attach it to her full-length mirror with its suction cup, and for fifteen minutes a night, work as hard as she could to take it all the way. She marked her progress with a scrunchy, and was proud to see that it moved down slowly over the course of a few weeks. She could almost make it to the base now, and it was bigger than he was.

When he complimented her on her progress, it thrilled her. Being called "his cocksucker" made her wet and proud. She had continued her practice even after telling him she needed some space, because of how it made her feel, and knowing that he'd appreciate it just as he was doing now.

He'd used his belt on her often at first, when she broke a rule. The rules were simple: once she started, his cock stayed in her mouth until he was done with her. She never touched it with her hands while sucking him. And she waited for permission before she swallowed his come.

So there had been times when she was maneuvering her lips to the bobbing head of his cock as his belt cracked on her ass. When he leaned over to swing the belt, his cock moved and changed position, making it harder to get her mouth back around it. She soon learned to keep it between her lips, to take breaths with the head still in her mouth, or to get it back quickly, before the belt landed, if it slipped.

He did not punish her for failing to take it in completely, as long as he felt like she was working hard and making progress. His hand on the back of her head would often hold her down, not forcing it deeper, but holding her where she was. He'd say nothing, or admonish her simply, "Work." She learned to relax her throat enough to gag less, which then allowed her to take a breath around his cock.

If she managed to take it deeper, his hand would follow, holding her in place. He would hold her down until she was in actual distress, and he'd told her to slap the floor or his legs if she was starting to choke. He did not push her as hard when her hands were restrained.

She worked very hard to comply, to the point that one time, arriving home after dinner, she'd vomited up some of her meal. She'd expected to be punished, but instead he had taken her into the bathroom, cleaned her face and breasts, and then himself, and told her not to let it happen again. So she had employed her distress gesture more often, and was never punished for it. He wanted her to work hard, but not to suffer, certainly not to the point where she could not continue serving.

She had not realized it at the time, but that training had been the actual prelude to the slave training she was starting now. It had stripped away what she'd thought she'd known, and built her back up from the ground as his, defining "success" entirely in terms of his orders and pleasure.

Her desires or enjoyment had no part in what she was doing; the fact that she got wet even thinking about it was a pleasant irrelevancy. She had done her training every night, even though the prospect of a rubber prick down her throat was not nearly as alluring as the real thing. She worked, seeing her eyes and nose running in the mirror, working to reach the scrunchy and take it between her lips, with no one petting her or telling her she was doing a good job, and no prospect of being fucked or played with or even getting a mouthful of his come.

It was just work, hard work, that she did in order to serve him better. That kept her going through the discomfort and the unpleasant taste of latex and the need to clean her drool off the mirror and wipe it up from the floor. She focused on becoming a better servant to him, being his cocksucker, hearing him praise her, filling her mouth with his reward.

--

One evening Chloe had been over, and caught a glimpse of the practice dildo in her bedside drawer. "New toy?" she asked. "Can I see?"

"It's not a toy," Rachele said. "It's for my training."

"That's what you practice on? You suck that?" Chloe asked.

Rachele pointed at the mirror on the back of her door. "Every night."

"You haven't done it tonight," Chloe said.

"I haven't been doing it when you're here."

"Maybe you should," Chloe said, half teasing, half challenging. "Are you allowed to skip a night?"

"He doesn't set a schedule," Rachele said. "I wanted to get better. I had to relearn this. I feel like I'm starting over in so many ways."

"I want to see what you do," Chloe said. "Show me."

Rachele looked at her, took the dildo out of the drawer and attached it to the mirror, below waist level. Chloe noticed other suction-cup marks there.

"I don't usually do this dressed," Rachele said, unbuttoning her blouse and pulling the thin camisole over her head. She unzipped her jeans and stepped out of them, along with the sheer boy shorts she'd had on underneath.

"Go ahead," Chloe said. "Show me how you practice."

R knelt in front of the mirror, clasped her hands behind her back, put her lips around the head of the dildo, and slowly descended until her lips were almost at the mirror. She came back up slowly, and went down again. She reached her tongue out to touch the mirror, then up again. Going down again, she held it, as drool ran from her lips and her eyes watered.

Chloe was standing beside her now. "You're good at that," she said. Her hand on the back of Rachele's head held her down for a moment, and then Chloe unzipped her jeans and pulled her panties down, and turned Rachele's messy face to her pussy, pressing her head into her crotch.

Her friend's tongue caressed her and she rubbed her face in Chloe's soft pubic hair, getting even messier as Chloe got wetter and wetter. Chloe looked down at her friend, naked, on her knees, her face buried between her legs.

"Is this what it's like?" she asked. "When you do it to him?

Rachele looked up. "I'm always on my knees," she said. "I spend a lot of time on the ground."

"Kneeling?" Chloe asked.

"And crawling," Rachele said. "Waiting. Sometimes eating."

Chloe sat down on the bed, and Rachele crawled to her.

"Come up here," Chloe said, pulling the covers back and taking off her jeans and underwear. She pulled her sweater over her head as Rachele got under the covers, and then slid into her friend's arms.

"I'm not used to you like that," she said. "It's hot to see you on the floor but it's not where you belong, not for me."

"I love being here with you," Rachele said. "But I do belong on the floor. I am glad to be there."

--

"You talk about 'training' a lot," Chloe asked later, looking at the ceiling. "What else do you need to learn? I thought you were more experienced than I am."

"Well, I'm older, it's true," Rachele said. "But being with Robert is like starting over in many ways. I'm relearning some very basic things. It's like he's rebuilding me in some ways from the ground up."

"Like what?"

"I don't mean just sexual things. You know about the clothing and the orgasms and all," Rachele said. "But I have to wait for permission before I eat. Sometimes he puts me under strict rules that mean I can't speak without permission. There are days where I don't get to eat at the table or sit on furniture."

Chloe looked at her.

"I have to ask for permission to use the bathroom," Rachele said. "It makes me feel owned all the time, controlled. We will be out sometimes when I'm under strict rules, and I'm letting him answer for me and keeping my eyes down and it's like I'm in another world with just him and me. I love it."

"I can't picture any of this," Chloe said.

"I couldn't have either," Rachele said. "But that's the point. He's training me to be different. He's creating a contrast between who I am in the world, and who I am with him. It doesn't change anything I am, but it adds a whole new dimension, a new place for me to be, someplace soft and warm and simple. I never realized how much I needed something like that."

"You needed to be meek and silent?"

"I needed to be quiet. To not have to think. To be controlled instead of controlling things," Rachele said. "To just be."

"You can't 'just be' with me?" Chloe asked.

"Do you want to own me?" Rachele said. "Do you want to make the decisions and take responsibility and let me not worry about a thing? Could you do that?."

"No, I couldn't," Chloe said.

"And I wouldn't want you to," Rachele said. "It's not who you are. You have things I need, things only you have, but not that."

Chloe didn't answer. She was trying to imagine Rachele as Rachele, being trained, being broken down. She couldn't do it and she wasn't sure she liked it. She had always looked up to Rachele; it was very difficult to imagine her on the ground.

--

r remembered that conversation as she worked, kneeling on the cushion she had bought for this purpose. Chloe had watched this kind of training, but she probably didn't realize what it was like in real life. The dildo was just for her throat and her gag reflex, not all the other work she did serving him. The commands she listened for, the effort to not let his cock leave her mouth even as it twitched or jumped, her response to his hand on the back of her head.

And the quivers she was feeling in his cock right now that meant he would be coming soon. She had been trained well, and did not speed up, just worked to get even deeper at the bottom of each stroke, and to keep her tongue moving along the bottom of his cock.

He pushed her head down hard, and she opened her throat as best she could, working her tongue on him as she felt him start to come. He pumped in and out of her mouth a few times, hard, until he was finished, then withdrew.

Drool all over her chin, she lowered her head. "I'm sorry, Master, it was so deep in my throat I had to swallow," she said.

He pushed her face to the floor. "Wait here."

Her forehead on her welcome mat, where they had wiped their feet a moment before, she inhaled the smell of sisal, felt her face getting sticky as her spit dried, still felt his impact in the back of her throat. She heard his footsteps behind her, but kept her face on the floor as he spanked her hard, three times on each side. She kept her arms clasped behind her, so with each blow her face was pushed harder into the mat, and she was moved forward until her head touched the door.

He lifted her up by the hair. "Crawl into the living room." He walked behind her, slapping her a few times, and sat on the couch while she knelt beside him.

"What would you like to order for dinner?" he asked her, and set up the order on his phone with his slave at his feet. She leaned against him, her legs straight out and slightly open, her face still sticky.

She ate on the floor, still naked, still sticky. Her hands were not cuffed but she kept them behind her, or supported herself on her elbows with her hands beneath her, as she crouched like a cat. He fed her with his own chopsticks, or put dumplings on a plate in front of her that she picked up with her mouth. Her face got messier, but she ate everything she was given, using her tongue and teeth to pick up bits of beef or broccoli when he put them on her plate, or opening her mouth for rice.

He did not make her lap up any soup, and he held a squeeze bottle of water for her when she begged. She knew without being told the she wasn't to use words, so when she wanted a drink, she put her lips around the bottle's nozzle, where it stood next to her on the floor, and looked up at him, waiting for him to help her drink.

After dinner, she lay on a cushion at his feet and they watched a movie as he stroked her hair and played with her. Her legs were not open, but drawn up as they were, her pussy and asshole were both exposed, and he took advantage of both, sometimes briefly, sometimes long enough to make her moan and squirm, always concluding with his fingers in her mouth for her to lick him clean.

When it was time for bed she crawled ahead of him into the bathroom. He held her head between his legs and washed her face. He took each of her hands and washed them, then ordered her to spread her legs, and cleaned between them gently.

"You may stand to use the toilet," he said. "Then come to bed."

He left the bathroom and closed the door. He hadn't said so explicitly, but she went back to her hands and knees when she was finished. She crawled to the door, reached up to open it, and then crawled to the bed and waited with her face on the floor.