Seeking

"Drink, girl." He said.

I was so thirsty that I drank and drank. It was Gatorade lemon-lime and not at all my favorite but it tasted so good. It ran down my chin and dripped over my lifted-up breasts. A soft cloth dabbed it away. I lay back, closed my eyes and I slept.

When I woke up, it was to hands touching me. Master James' hands and Master Robert's big black hands were everywhere at once. They teased my nipples to aching hardness. Fingers slipped in and out of my cunt again. My legs willingly parted, arching up off the table when fingers found my throbbing clit and stroked over it. More cunt juice was wiped on my body. More fingers with the slick taste of my sex clinging to them were presented to be licked clean.

I was pulled to my feet again and bent forward. My wrists were secured to the legs of the table on one side and my ankles cuffed to the table legs on the other side. I heard a door open and the footsteps and voices of men and women approached. I struggled and tugged but the cuffs held me tight. I was so embarrassed to be seen like this. So wide open with my body betraying me. Still hot from the touching and stroking the Masters had given me. Hands were everywhere on my body again. They touched, tugged and twisted my rock hard, aching nipples. Hands kneaded my ass cheeks. My whimpers of pain and moans of pleasure so mixed that I could no longer distinguish between them. Fingers probed my tight ass-ring. They slipped up through my slit, teasing my clit. My confused body tried first to grind down onto the fingers in my cunt and then lifted itself to encourage the fingers in my ass.

"Unnnghh, yessssssss."

A thick, long rubber dildo was worked deep in my cunt, my inner muscles sucked and squeezed down on it.

"Good girl, good girl."

All those hands kept touching me, big hands, small hands, rough hands and soft ones. Slender fingers with long painted nails squeezed, pinched and tugged my nipples.

"The slut needs a plug in this tight little ass."

I groaned out loud at these words from a strange voice. I flinched and clenched my cheeks hard at the cool touch of the lube. A slick finger circled my rim and then began slipping in and out. I felt more lube and again the finger, in and out, fucking, curling, stretching, and forcing all that lube in. I moaned at the touch of the plug's hard tip, burning as it was slowly twisted and fucked into my ass. The sound of my gasp was loud in my ear when my sphincter gave way and my ass sucked it all the way in. I felt so filled, so stuffed. I was squirming, grinding, clenching down hard as I could.

Then a hand twisted tight in my hair and my head was lifted up. I was looking straight at the groin of a man. He stepped closer and I registered tan slacks, a brown belt, and clean manicured man-fingers unzipping the fly. A soft flaccid cock was pulled out and held to my lips.

A leather crop bit into my left ass cheek. I jerked forward to escape it bumping my face into the cock.

"Take the cock in your mouth, girl," Master James' voice said from behind me.

I opened my mouth and took the soft salty cock in. One more stinging lash but my cry was muffled as I sucked and licked. The cock grew hard and pressed back on my tongue till I gagged from it. The man's hands in my hair held my head tight to his thrusting hips. I heard his groans as I worked to take the cock tip pushing deep in my throat. I struggled to breathe, gasping each time he pulled back a little. My mouth became slick with the precum as the rhythm of his slow, deep strokes continued.

"Oh you cunt. You sweet whore. That's it, that's it. Suck me you bitch."

The strokes became short quick thrusting jabs. I took every inch in my throat and I knew, oh God yes, I knew he was about to cum. Those big, soft balls lifted up and I actually felt the force of the cum pumping up through the thick cock and exploding deep in my throat on his final hard thrust. I was held tight to him, swallowing, nearly choking on the volume of it. He finally let go and pulled out. One thick string of cum hung there from the tip of his cock to my lip and then the fragile connection broke as he stepped back. Cum dripped and oozed down my chin as another man stepped up. One hot strike of the crop on my inner thigh and I groaned and opened my mouth again. I took the new cock inside and was in heaven with the thick shaft pumping into me, twisting, screwing deep into my throat. Hands began fucking the dildo and butt plug in and out of my holes and I heard Master James' voice in my ear.

"Cum, bitch. Cum, girl."

I did. And as I was coming so hard, sweet Jesus, the cock in my mouth poured its thick gooey seed down my throat.

They left me like that, dripping cum from my chin, with the dildo stuffed up my cunt and the plug still deep in my ass. I didn't care... I was floating.

Some time later, Master Robert returned and eased the plug out and then the dildo. I shuddered as they were pulled from me. He laughed and told me I was wrong if I thought I was going to get any more that evening. He unsnapped the cuffs and helped me to my feet.

"Get dressed and go home, girl, and be proud of those marks."

He led me back to the little room where my clothes were, where it all started. It was a different girl who came back to those clothes and it was like .....Well, it was like my life up till then had been a black and white photo that was now suddenly in color. I understood then....I had to do this for ME.

Retrospective

There were aspects of what I was doing that bothered me. My introduction to the sessions that Monday evening had left me drained. I felt listless the following day. Even the simplest of chores seemed to require a great effort. I was very aware of the clock in my kitchen, of the hours slipping past as Wednesday and the second session bore down on me. The single day between these ordeals I faced seemed completely inadequate. I knew I would have to find the strength somewhere within me to survive Wednesday night. To get past it to the blessed rest and relief of the four painless days and nights that would follow it.

Other thoughts intruded as well. When I had first met the man I now called Sir, I had been fascinated. He had a presence I had never before encountered. That he was older than I had bothered me initially but I soon found that his vitality was hard to keep up with. In fact, as I shared his energy and looked back on the younger men I had lived with, I realized how dull and aimless they had been.

He was also the first skilled lover to enter my life. I was by no means a virgin and yet with several relationships behind me, it was with him that I experienced my first crashing orgasm. My toes had curled until I had sworn they would crack and I had cum so hard that I pissed myself.

He had unlocked wantonness in me. I came to look forward to the new sensations he was introducing me to. When he began to demand small acts of obeisance in trade for the pleasures I craved, I was only to willing to act out my part in what seemed a sexy, little game. It was fun to pretend to beg for his touch and I enjoyed the provocative poses he asked me to assume.

We were in the Farmer's Market, buying fresh goodies for the salads we both loved, when I crossed the line. When I first allowed him make me do something against my will. All morning he had been surreptitiously tugging at my nipples through my top and fondling my ass. Occasionally he would lean in and lick my throat or nibble at my earlobe. I became impatient with the marketing as his touches warmed me and I grew wet.

I had finally told him how aroused I was and asked him to get us home and into bed. He'd taken my ear in his teeth and bit down, whispering that he was not yet ready to leave. I'd begged him, only to have him shake his head and frustrate me further.

Then he'd pulled me close and traced the crotch of my jeans with his fingertip. I had become such a sexual creature with him that even so mere a touch flooded me with anticipation of the things he could make me feel when he chose to. In desperation I had told him that I had to use the toilet. He'd given me his brightest smile then and fastened his eyes on mine.

"You are seriously dying to get home and fuck and you also need to pee?" he'd asked.

"Both. Desperately!" I'd replied, relieved that he was relenting.

"Piss yourself. Right now where you are standing and then we'll go." He'd said.

I remember looking at him in consternation. I had just known he couldn't be serious but he had just held me locked with his eyes. I felt like walking away then and just leaving him standing there with his bag of spinach and cucumbers and radishes. Instead, completely against my will, I had relaxed my bladder and pissed myself. The tears that began pouring down my red face were hotter than the warm urine that had soaked my jeans and thighs. He had taken my hand then and led me, stained and crying, though the market throng to the parking lot.

When we'd arrived home he bathed me and took me to bed. I lost count of the number of times I'd cum that night. In the days and nights that followed I often masturbated while reliving the feeling I'd had as I was being led through that crowd of staring eyes.

That was when it had really begun. My deep desire for domination and humiliation. At the time, I had been sure that I loved the man who became my Master. Then I began to love him because he was my Master.

As I thought of the session that was drawing nearer with every sweep of the clock's hand, I knew that as much as I dreaded the pain, there was a part of me that lusted for the other half of the experience. Every time I thought of the shame and humiliation that would be waiting for me my cunt began to leak.

Second Training Session

So many thoughts ran through my head as I unpacked the enema bag and stared at the thick nozzle. This time I spread two towels on the floor. It's a porcelain tile floor and it's cold. I hate cold. I dreaded the enema process, yet I knew I had no choice. If this intimate ordeal was horrid in the privacy of my own bathroom....it would be unbearable to have it done to me once I arrived at the farm.......some choice.

I had given my consent though and had known of this requirement from the very beginning. It was uglier and more painful than I had imagined it would be. Even though some deep, dark part of me wanted and needed to be used and controlled, I hadn't accepted or come to terms with this part of my conditioning.

Later, when I sat down to my journal, I decided to skip over another description of the enema process. It was just too awful and distasteful and just.......just.....I couldn't find the words to express the humiliation I felt when I did this to myself. It was like everyone knew what was going on in my bathroom when I.........God, it made it hard to face them.... knowing that they knew what I had just finished doing to myself.

This time I arrived at the farm with time to spare. I was bathed, shaven smooth, thoroughly cleaned inside and out... but again...like the first time, I had to sit in the car for a few minutes, gathering my strength and courage. I took slow, deep, calming breaths. My back, ass and upper thighs were still red and striped from the discipline on Monday. I was not sore and hot to the touch anymore, still, I was praying that I wouldn't be flogged or punished again on my backside.

As before, Master James met me just inside the door and this time I lowered my eyes immediately and kept them glued to the floor.

"It goes well with you, girl?"

I wasn't sure what he meant by that but assumed he was asking me how I was.

"I'm fine, Master James; I hope it goes well with you."

I was thinking to myself they have a funny way of talking around here for being in Minna-sooota and fighting the urge to laugh. I brought myself up short, feeling guilty for this urge to be sarcastic. It was smart-assed and disrespectful. Somehow, it seemed that Master James had read my thoughts. His voice became colder and his tone sharper.

"Take your clothes off, girl and present yourself to us for inspection."

This time I folded my clothes in neat piles and without being told as soon as I entered the dungeon I dropped to my hands and knees and crawled to the platform. The three of them were there, seated and waiting. I took the presenting position in front of Master Robert, as he was seated in the middle. They let me kneel there for several long minutes with no one saying a word. My knees were aching after a minute or two. The wooden floor was hard and I could feel the start of a cramp in my thigh. 'Oh, no. Please, no.' I prayed inwardly it would not happen as I had to be still.

Master Robert got up first and curled his hand in my hair. He pulled my head back, my face up.

"Open your mouth up wide, girl. Did you clean all that cum outta your mouth?"

He bent his face close to mine and peered into my mouth. He held out two of his big fingers.

"Suck."

I leaned toward him and took his fingers into my mouth. I ran my tongue between them. I sucked, making little soft sucking noises as I rocked forward and back. I sucked as if his fingers were a fat cock I was striving to please.

"Yessss" I moaned through my stuffed mouth.

He grunted his approval and slipped his fingers out. For once he hadn't criticized me. Master James took his place. His hands cupped my breasts and his thumbs teased my nipples. They quickly filled to his touch and he SQUEEZED. My body jerked out of position but they seemed merely to enjoy the evidence of my discomfit. His one hand kept tugging and pinching my right nipple while his other hand cupped my cunt. I was wet. Nipple play made me so wet. His fingers slipped up through my slit and inside. Again, I was commanded by a single word.

"Suck."

I tried my best to make a mouth of my cunt. My hips started moving, rocking, grinding down onto his fingers. I strove to clasp the fingers with my inner muscles.

"That's it, slut, prove that your cunt wants to be fucked."

His other hand was twisting the ring on my nipple and the hurt felt good. My cunt squeezed his fingers. Squeezed down, then relaxed and sucked at them. There were wet slurping sounds when he started fucking them in and out of me. The length of his thumb was rubbing my clit. I groaned when my hot cream started to flow over his hand. He pulled out. I was left aching and gasping, one second from cumming. Before he got up, he wiped his fingers on my face and slipped them in my mouth. I had to suck and clean them despite the fact that they had denied me my cum.

"Good girl. Such a good slut you are."

All this praise was so different from that first night. I knelt there, gasping and flushed from the need of my body following my near orgasm. It was embarrassing to be there on my knees, panting, like an animal in heat.

Master Michael circled me and then stopped behind me. He put his hand on the back of my collarless neck and began pushing me forward. He said he was showing me a new kneeling position and that from now on when I was told to present my ass, this was the position I'd be expected to adopt. My knees were already spread the required shoulder width apart and as he pushed me forward he turned my head to the left and pressed my cheek to the floor. He told me to put my arms straight out ahead of me as if begging for Master's attention and to keep my ass raised up high in the air.

In this position I could feel the draft of air in the room flowing over my ass and wet cunt. I felt so wide open, so exposed and so vulnerable that even with all that had gone before, I felt myself blushing. There was nothing hidden from view and Master Michael began rubbing his hand over my ass cheeks as if inspecting the marks that were still there from his flogging two days ago.

"You mark well, girl, did it make you feel proud to wear these marks of mine?"

"Yes, Master Michael." I whispered.

In that moment I realized I was speaking the truth. I must have looked at my ass and my back and my thighs a hundred times in the mirror. Each time I did feel a sense of awe and pride that I had been able to endure it and that he had worked so hard to mark me in such a beautiful way. The marks were criss-crossed and as perfectly laid on my skin as if an artist had carefully painted them on. They were not random but created a pattern that was striking each time that I looked at it. Not only that but each time I looked it reminded me of why they were there, of what they represented. That I was a slut whose sole purpose was to please through submission and obedience.

His fingers began stroking and teasing back and forth over my dark, puckered hole. On every third or fourth stroke slipping much farther forward gently up through my swollen labia. So far each of the Masters had been very careful of my labia piercings. As I had before when Master James had finger fucked me, I began grinding and rocking and pressing into Master Michael's fingers. I felt something cool and slick being massaged all around my anal ring and then his finger began pressing into me. He began working the slick lube into my hole. More lube and a little more of his finger each time. I groaned and pressed back. With his whole finger in, I clenched down on it. He wiggled it, curled it, and twisted it, keeping it deep inside me until he felt me relax. The finger was removed only to be quickly replaced by the tip of a plug. Softer but bigger than the one I had experienced during my first session.

"Aghhhh."

I moaned as it pressed in past the ring of tight muscle. As it was worked into me, I realized that it was in the shape of a cock. He held it half way in for a moment and then began gently fucking it in and back out. He continued until the ache and the burn went away. All at once, with one push, it was all the way in me, buried deep. I felt searing a heat as it stretched and filled my tunnel. My body was rocking, my ass wiggling and my hips moving in circles. Involuntarily, I tried to expel it but it was in deep. It fitted so tightly that it was there to stay until he removed it. Gradually the burning again faded but the aching fullness remained. Master Mark wiped his hands on my ass cheeks and gave me a sharp smack on my right cheek with his hand before he got up.

"Good girl." He said, "You're a good little ass slut."

It was then that Master James asked me if I wished to speak freely about anything. Did I have any concerns? Had I anything to confess? There I was, on my knees, with my cheek pressed to the boards and my stuffed ass in the air. There I was, with my sweaty body shaking from need and suddenly I was forced to wrench my mind from the haze of lust it had slipped into. My gut clenched because I did have something to tell him. I had failed to record the first session in my journal. Several factors had contributed to my lapse. The long hours I'd worked, the fatigue, my worry over this training and the fact that I'd had a cold and just felt rotten. Still, I had no really valid excuse. Just a bunch of little ones and the truth was that I'd had the time but just didn't want to. I hadn't wanted to relive my ordeal by setting it down on paper. I had confessed to Sir already and received punishment from him. He had instructed me to catch up the journal by the weekend and to wear clover clamps on my nipples and clit while I made the entries. I was to write an entry admitting the real reason I had allowed the journal to slip behind. He had also instructed me to inform Master James of my failure.

"Yes, please, Master James, may I be allowed to speak freely?"

I was still presenting my ass, very open and vulnerable. It was frightening to be making a confession in such a helpless position.

"Yes, girl, permission granted. You may speak."