Eros and Psyche Ch. 01-03

"Carys, it's not racism. I'm looking out for you." Normally, I wasn't a person who got upset. I prided myself on my reserve and the way I rarely got emotional about things. But right then, I was fuming.

"Yeah. Sure. Listen, I should get going. It was nice chatting with you."

I rolled my eyes after I hung up the phone. She'd be absolutely horrified if she knew what I had agreed to. The thought of how horrified she'd be made me smile, and made me want it even more.

Training was to start after work Monday. My throat felt dry and my palms clammy with excitement as I walked up to his door that day. I let myself in. On the entryway table sat a note.

Hello Carys,

Are you excited about training to become a submissive slut? Go upstairs. More instructions and equipment await you.

I felt like I was in a myth, something unreal. Here I was, in this hillside California house, set in misty woodlands, belonging to a minor Silicon Valley prince of sorts. On the bed, there were two dresses and a small note pinned to them.

Note #2

I asked you for your wrist and neck measurements to buy you a custom collar and cuffs. They haven't arrived yet.

But I still want to be proud of my little whore when she's by my side. I'd like you to wear the black dress on Tuesday. Then, wear the light blue sweater and skirt on Wednesday. These are yours to keep.

Oooh, I liked this. I liked it far, far too much, I thought as I felt the wetness bloom between my legs. Picking out my clothes everyday felt like a small added stress, so much so that I ended up wearing the same handful of things all the time. How nice to have someone do it for me. And just that constant reminder, that I was dressed as his plaything, all the time. So sexy.

The black dress would be fitted, with a straight skirt that would fall a little below my knee. The blue sweater was thin, light enough that it would show my figure without being too revealing. The clothes felt like me - how could he understand me so well already - but a slightly more sexy, polished version. I'd be the sleek nerdy-smart submissive woman he wanted, which made me feel both objectified and treasured.

On the center of the bed was note #3.

Note #3

Now take off your clothes. Can you see the cameras watching you? I have a feed running them to the next room, where I can see you while I work on the other screen. Don't worry, they do not connect to the cloud and I will delete them after.

I wondered how much work he could possibly be doing while watching me make porn for him. Then, I stripped off my work clothes, and put them neatly next to the new clothes he had bought for me.

Pull out your phone. Put it on the bed. When you are naked, I want you to kneel on the bed.

I would like to start you off with a little anal training. Anal means you're such an eager to please little slut that you're offering me a smaller, tighter hole even if it hurts you. I love the degrading, taboo aspect.

In front of you is an anal plug and some lube. Rub some of the lube on your tighter hole. Then, rub even more lube onto the plug. I want you to slowly insert the plug into yourself, with your face turned to the camera in front of you. When I see that you have finished, I will text you a video to watch.

The thought of degrading myself in the way that he commanded me was uncomfortably arousing. I looked up straight into the camera, and pumped the lube onto my fingers. I reached behind myself and found the small hole. It felt so good to touch myself there, especially knowing he was watching me. I barely pushed the tip of my finger in. The muscles protecting and surrounding my asshole were much tighter and more resistant than my soft, wet pussy.

Then I took the plug. It was pretty, made of heavy glass with a sparkling jeweled end. I put more lube on it. I lined it up with my asshole, and started to push it in. The first quarter inch was fine...but as the plug went deeper and widened, my hole resisted. I pushed it in and out a bit, fucking myself in a way that felt wonderful. "Oww!" I cried out as I pushed a wider part through. It hurt, and I wondered if I should stop. No, I had to do this. He instructed it, I had agreed to do as he said, and I would keep my word. Then the widest part, tears springing to my eyes at the slight pain in one of the most sensitive areas of my body. I looked up at the camera to show him that I would still keep going. And then, suddenly, it was in, and settled into my hole. My little hole was filled, and my pussy was drenched because it felt so good.

My phone binged.

You're a very good girl. I can tell that wasn't easy. I can also tell how you much you enjoyed it. Now turn around, and show your plugged asshole to me.

I blushed at the thought of showing myself off to him. I got down on all fours on the bed, with my ass facing the camera. I lifted up, arching my back, so that he could see...everything.

I see that you have a very slutty little ass that likes being filled. You're glistening, and dripping down your thighs. Was that your first time with assplay?

I messaged him back. Yes. It feels so good. What should I call you? It doesn't feel right to say your name when you're my teacher.

You learn very quickly, my little nymph. Do you like that? I think it suits you.

I thought very quickly. Yes, I do.

Most subs would say Sir. Maybe Master.

Yes, Sir. Would you like that?

I would. Good little nymph. Here is the first video, which is instructional. This second is a video of a girl fucking her own throat with a dildo. Pay attention to how deep she takes, you can see her throat bulge when she fucks it.

So I sat on the bed with the phone, and watched the first video. It explained how to give a blow job...using my tongue and lips to tease and other standard stuff. Then, a few cool tricks, like how to tuck your thumb into your palm while balling your fist so you could stop yourself from gagging, and how to relax your throat while building up to deep throating.

Then the second video. A very sexy girl with long brown hair comes onto the screen. She slid a large, colorful dildo into her mouth. And I was amazed to see it disappear down her throat. Her throat bulged as she filled it. She fucked it in and out, and even when she started to gag, she kept it still down her throat and returned to fucking her throat with it. She also clearly loved getting sticky with her spit. I didn't notice how aroused I was until I noticed my fast, ragged breath.

When I finished, I picked up the large blue dildo and ran my fingers down its length. How would this fit into my throat?

Naughty little nymph. My phone binged. Did I tell you to play with the dildo, or did that make you so horny you forgot? You'll find I'm a very strict Master, and I expect obedience.

I'm sorry, Sir.

Open your legs, and face the camera. I did as he instructed. Now, I want you to fill yourself with that dildo before you suck it. I could feel myself blush all over. No lube. You're soaked, and you should be able to take it. I sat down, opening my legs so he could see that I was as wet as he said I was, so wet that it was getting on his bed. Then I carefully lined up the dildo with my sopping pussy. I pushed it, and it was harder than I thought. Was this what it was like for a man to push his cock in? I had to work it in, and I could feel myself stretching open to take it as the head slid in. Even as soaked as I was, I could feel how tight it was inside of me. Then I moved it in and out, stretching myself so I could take more of it.

Do you get wet everytime you blush, little slut? Take it out now, and lick it before you start practicing for 30 minutes. You may set an alarm.

I wondered how he was getting any work done. And I stared at the dildo, wet and slick with my fluids. I licked it with caution. Is that you how you'd clean a cock after it fucked you? Show me what a good little cock sucker and clean up slut you are.

I whined with lust. I flattened my tongue against it and slurped. Then I moved my lips down, tilted my head up, and thrust the head into my open mouth. I moved my mouth up and down, making sure I was using my tongue the whole way. Then I licked its shaft again, and plunged it back through my lips. Spit all over my face and hands as I got sticky with it. In and out, deeper and deeper, until I forced it down the opening of my throat and tears sprang to my eyes. I let them fall as I kept thrusting and let my spit soak me because I wanted to be a good, pleasing little cock sucker. I turned toward his camera, opening my legs so I could be as slutty as he wanted me to be. I moved my hips up and down as if I was riding a cock while I kept thrusting and moaning as I enjoyed the thought of being his slut, the reserved professor turned cock-hungry whore.

I kept going until the shrill ringing of my phone finally stopped me. I dropped the messy dildo on the bed, and laid back catching my breath. My thoroughly fucked throat would be so sore tomorrow morning.

The bedroom door opened, and there he stood. I looked up.

"I thought I wouldn't see you!" I said, delightly and excitedly. Then I remembered that I was a sticky mess, and blushed.

"You just plugged your ass and fucked your throat, little slut, and all you can think about is seeing me? I wanted to see you too. And we need to eat anyway, so how about I clean you up and take you out for a late dinner before dropping you home?" He smiled and rained little kisses all over my face.

"As long as you clean me up first. Why are we waiting to have sex?" I bit my lower lip, anxious, wet, and horny.

"Don't do that, I don't want you to hurt your lip. We are waiting until I finish raising the round. I have the feeling we'll have a lot of sex once we do, and I need to not be distracted right now."

"Oh really? You're not distracted by all of this?"

"It's a controlled distraction."

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"I didn't say I wasn't." He grinned at me.

On Wednesday, the routine was the same. I plugged myself, I watched another deep throating video, and then I sucked a dildo for 40 minutes this time. Then I waited for him again.

Little nymph, you look very beautiful and very messy. I'm watching you, and you're covered in your fluids and spit.

It's all your fault.

Some doms like to use punishment to train their submissives. I'd rather reward you for good behavior instead of punishing you. If you misbehave, that is a reflection on me for not doing a good job of training you and taking care of your needs.

Now, if you beg me very nicely, I will let you have a little reward. An orgasm. Don't just say 'please' over and over again, tell me what you want and why you deserve it. And if you're a very good girl, we'll have a fun Sunday date night together during your in-person training session with me.

I stared at the text for a few moments. The thought of giving up my orgasms to him somehow made me feel...I was all slippery and wet again at the thought. I hadn't orgasmed in three days. But also, I knew I'd have to be creative.

Oh, please Sir, please let me orgasm. I'm such a desperate slut. I've been so good at practicing sucking cock and plugging myself to please you, Sir. May I please be rewarded with an orgasm of my own?

Not a bad start, nymph. You're very persuasive. Or maybe it's because I'd like to watch you play with your needy pussy while your ass is plugged. Lay on the bed, with your legs open so that the camera is on your pussy. And tell me everything you fantasized about when you're finished.

So I laid back. I reached between my legs, using two fingers to pull back the hood of my clit and touched myself. I imagined my fingers were his, that he was lying beside me, telling me I was a dirty little slut...

And that was pleasant and I was soaked, but it wasn't quite enough. So instead, I imagined he had tied me up, with my wrists behind my back and I was kneeling in front of him. Then he brought his cock to my lips and rubbed it across my face. Popped it into my mouth, so that I swirled my tongue around the head of his cock before pushing it in further. I wanted to know what he tasted like. I wished I could feel him get harder and harder in my mouth...and I wanted to take him down my throat and show him how well I'd taken to his training. I wanted that more than anything. I could feel myself get more slick and excited. I thrust two fingers inside myself, and let the waves of pleasure take over as I softly moaned. Then I laid back, feeling soft and gentle with release but wishing I could give him one too.

A few moments, the familiar bing.

How was that, nymph-girl?

It was lovely. Thank you, Sir.

It was very hot, watching you touch your pussy. You're learning very quickly. What did you fantasize about?

I imagined you tied my wrists behind my back and fucked my throat, Sir.

So now you're starting to see the effects of the training, aren't you, my little nympho whore? And see how my name-calling is becoming more derogatory to you? Go clean yourself up, and go home.

I don't know what came over in that moment. I felt a huge wave of sadness, and burst into tears. "No, no!" I cried to the camera.

And the door opened, and there he was. "Carys, Care, what's wrong?"

"I don't know," I sobbed. "I wanted to hug you."

He held me in his lap, messy as I was with spit, cum, and tears. I wanted to be his slut, I really did, but I also missed talking to him. I missed connecting on the shared experience of being children of recent immigrants and of being driven and ambitious. He understood me, and that he knew how much I loved submission before I did showed me how accurately he saw me. He got how the tension of our ambitions could relax during the all-consuming thrill of this type of sex. And I felt...so safe in his arms.

"Care. My little nympho slut, it's my fault." His voice was heavy with some emotion I couldn't name. "You're new at this, you need aftercare, and I should have known better."

"No," I cried. "No, you're perfect, I'm so glad you're training me even though you're so busy. I miss talking to you."

His lips were at the top of my head, kissing it gently before he tilted my teary face toward his. "I miss you too. That feeling of missing you made me feel very romantic."

Missing me. Romantic. But of course. I tilted my head back down, against his chest. I could feel his heart beating so fast. Then I thought of our differences. I was a quiet academic type, I thought I'd fall in love with someone similar. He was a smooth techie professional, with a level of control that demanded perfection. But we were falling in love with each other despite all that. Because what we had in common were the things that really mattered: a similar worldview, similar ways of feeling and expressing emotions, similar ways of solving problems, we were both ambitious, and I could imagine building a life with him.

"I told my sister about you"

"What did she say?"

"She was a little upset that you're Indian. Indian-American," I corrected myself.

"How do you feel about that?"

"I don't really get mad, but the racism made me mad."

"I don't get a lot of racism. It's not a daily thing, nothing like that. I get some prejudice, people making assumptions sometimes. But it does flare up once in a while. I guess, Carys, if you're with me, your family might say things too. Even here, where there are so many Asian-and-white couples, we might get a few stares. I understand if that's too much for you." His voice was very tight.

Part of the reason we might get stares is that most of those couples were East Asian and South Asian women and white men, and we were the opposite. The thought of being subjected to that type of injustice made me feel rebellious with anger. Then I realized that he experienced this his whole life, and it was new to me.

"No, I think it's silly and you're as American as me. We're both the children of immigrants. If it comes to it, I'll do what I think is right. That's staying with you."

"You'll have time to think it over. Do you want to stay over? The way we do this is that I see you only at night." I could hear the anxiety in his voice.

"I feel like Psyche from the myth. I visit your lovely hillside 'castle' and you only visit me at night for sex while you also take care of me from a distance. Her sisters drove a wedge between her and Eros. Then I get put through the wringer of degradation and submission and whatnot. And you're bringing me into this new world, and I'm both your goddess and your whore. Though Psyche means soul, and my name means love. And your name means wisdom, and Eros is a god of love. Anyway, what about work?"

He laughed. "Well, Psyche, my knowledge of Western mythology is nowhere near as good as yours. And we're not having sex yet. It's not like I can focus on work now."

I rolled my eyes at him. In one sense, he was right. I hadn't even seen him naked. "I'd love to stay."

--

On Sunday, I wore a blue flower-patterned silk dress that Vivek gave me, then headed toward his place. When I arrived, he whisked me and commanded that I bend over and pull up my pretty dress. He pushed aside my skimpy panties and filled me with something that made a small buzzing sound before it was silent. I felt startled when I realized I trusted him so implicitly that if he wanted to put some sort of sex toy inside me, I didn't question it.

"Would you like to feel what I'm wearing under my clothes?" I nodded as he gestured to his crouch, and I was excited that he would allow me to feel his cock.

But no, because he had a cage over it. I whimpered pathetically. I really, really wanted to see and feel his cock. "Why?"

"It's to show you how much control I have, and that I can deny myself. While you, little nympho, are wearing a toy that I control." I shuddered as he fiddled with his phone and I felt the vibrations. "How many orgasms could I give you during our car ride? Imagine, little slut, cumming on the seat next to me. Anyone could look over and see your horny little face."

He mercifully turned it off again. "Oh no." I whispered. "Wouldn't you like me to give you a blow job?" The question was bold, but my face and voice were shy.

"But oh yes. Yes, of course. I'm enjoying this feeling of longing and anticipation. And teasing you into becoming more and more slutty. Look at you: a week ago, would you have asked to give me a blow job? Would you be so curious about what my cock looks like?"

I flushed. "No. Well, maybe a little. But barely a fraction of how much I want to see and feel it now."

"There's the rush of power and control I get. I know I can control and deny myself while you have orgasm after orgasm. I know how badly you want it." I whimpered as he held me.

"I sort of want to tell you not to, but I want you to do it anyway." I whispered. "Like I want to say no but it's not like I mean no. And I want you to overpower me."

"We can do that. Two things: we'll use safewords, and I'll squeeze your hand and you squeeze back if you consent. If you don't squeeze back, I'll stop. Then we can play the way you want. It's called consensual non-consent." He grinned at me, excited.

"I wish you'd do that now."

"Do what, sweetheart? Use your words. Describe what you'd like."

I moaned. "I - I wish you grab me and pull up my dress and fuck me, hard, while I screamed at you to stop but you could feel how wet I was and how hard I was cumming on your cock..."

"Naughty girl. No foreplay, you'd just take my cock in your dripping little pussy. You're so wet right now that it would just slide right in? You're that ready to get fucked like the little whore you are?"