Slut Training 01

What are you doing?

What are you thinking?

The thought of a masculine body towering over her right now, even with a cup of tea for her in his hand, flashed into her head and was quickly quelled.

She squeezed her legs together and felt her labia pull slightly on the bath mat on which she was seated.

Just as she was lying in the bath and thinking about what Sir would have seen and said were he there that morning, the last thing she needed was an extra instruction. Unfortunately it came following a random cheekily phrased message she had sent him, which was to audio record herself slapping between her legs three times.

The punishment was no surprise. What was harder to fully appreciate right then was the addendum to his task list for her cheekiness. She now had to self flagellate each time after completing each pose. She resigned herself to her fate. It stung with each blow but she had coped with worse pain.

Immediately sitting up on the edge of the bath, she didn't question what was required or hesitate to comply. Opening her legs as wide as possible, the sound record button pressed on her phone, she slapped down hard.

Instantly her pussy felt on fire. A jolt of lightning coursed through her body on a direct path to her head. Veering via her mouth, she let out an involuntary cry of pain, but she raised her hand for the second and third times in succession without complaint. It had to be done. She squeaked each time her hand made contact.

Send!

Fuck. How did she get to this place in her life where she would actually smack her own forced celibate and eager aching body parts on the instructions of a Dom a hundred miles away? It never crossed her mind to not do as she was told or to not obey a direct instruction. The sub/Dom life was not about pain usually but about sexual control, excitement and stimulation. His edict wasn't about causing her physical harm but about testing her resolve and obedience, and more than anything else, about taking her closer and closer to the point of no return.

She had a slight worry that this point might be reached in public. As erotic as the thought was, the humiliation of squirting uncontrollably in a Sainsbury's aisle while wearing nothing beneath her coat when the Bjork music was accidentally played...

Well, that would be a step too far. In the meantime, he had told her to slap her pussy, so slap her she did, gritting her teeth to the results.

It would serve him right if she squirted over him on the night she saw him. She felt a flash of impudence. Did she dare send him another cheeky text? No! It would mean another penalty. Another loss of liberty. Another delicious humiliation perhaps?

She thought better of it and slipped from the bath and made her way to get dressed for work. She already had an inkling that tomorrow's task would involve more nudity and she didn't need that today too.

Deciding to behave herself, she counted her blessings instead. She didn't need to be directed to smack her own pussy too often, especially on her current knife edge of emotion. She could imagine the involuntary squirt that could potentially occur if she walked into a table, let alone actively smacked herself in punishment without being prepared for the outcome.

....

Task:

You are not to sit on clothing material all day.

Say the words

You should be quite eager to cum at this point, but you are not allowed to.

However, when you are sat in the car driving each way to work and to meet me later, and while having lunch, I want you to play Venus as a Boy to yourself in your earphones and think about what the song means to you.

Task:

You are not to sit on clothing material all day.

Say the words

You should be quite eager to cum at this point, but you are not allowed to.

However, when you are sat in the car driving each way to work and to meet me later, and while having lunch, I want you to play Venus as a Boy to yourself in your earphones and think about what the song means to you.

Yep, there it was. An opportunity to see how much she would leak when she heard the music without even the option of caressing herself. Would it bring back memories of her recent exploits? Would she instinctively moisten at the words?

'Taste of her arousal'.

Well, that would be all over her car seat. He had promised to make her lick it clean if she did get to him later with squirt all over the car from her open labia, and when she had countered a clever comment about the dirt on the seat, the simple solution of cleaning it before she seated herself, wiped the smirk from her face.

He obviously wasn't to be tested.

She took an evidence picture of her bare bottom in a mirror to prove her compliance before she left the house and seated herself onto the chilly leather car seat for the ride to work, Venus as a Boy playing once more over the car speakers.

As the morning wore on, she found her inner labia being dragged out of their secluded home by her naked, much drier thighs. This had the effect of keeping her on edge for the majority of the time, despite no toilet based tasks to complete or need to work into her day.

They had had to exchange a few messages about the force of her slaps to her most sensitive of places during recent punitive measures for misdemeanours.

Hearing them on the audio recording, he was concerned that she hadn't done her very best each time with the force that was needed. She had tended to ease off the pressure with each successive blow.

He had gently explained that doing a job well first time is preferable to repeated ham-fisted attempts which would most likely cause more distress in the long run. It might mean a slightly worse sting and a resultant throb for a few moments, but that would be more short lived than swollen and bruised outer labia lips.

She had had a previous task in a similar vein. Not being allowed to sit on the material of her clothing was not new to her. This time with the lack of orgasm for a few days and the instruction to listen to music that he had spent the week associating with her body for it to orgasm and posing naked, he hoped would give her a new layer of eroticism.

She did well that day; the driver's seat was cold on each journey and she limited her sitting down during the day for obvious reasons, preferring to stay on her feet or choosing to kneel if the time called for it.

Lunchtime was an issue. A confused start to her break and with many people around her, she forgot her promise. She had been pulled in three different directions at the same time, so by the time she had grabbed her lunch tupperware, her mind was not on her task.

It was only upon standing to clear the remnants and crumbs of her food, did she realise that she hadn't fulfilled her promise.

Wracked with guilt, she felt the need to confess to her Dom. She felt a bit cheeky telling him, though had no doubt what the severe and immediate punishment was going to be.

She giggled to herself as she told him and dutifully promised to abide by his decree, already walking to the toilet in the meantime, sure of what he was about to reply.

Sure enough, the frowny, raised eyebrow emoji said it all. As expected, she was to punish herself.

What she hadn't expected to happen was that she was to film herself completing the smacks. Angling the camera, she chose an artful angle. It still felt awkward to video her private parts but she found a viewpoint that would leave him in no doubt as to what she was doing but also provided a modicum of dignity, if that were possible, for what came next.

She gave and took four to her open lips.

Four as he had directed.

Four to her pubic area, the tips of her fingers wrapping through and under to catch herself at her most sensitive place.

All four of which made her yelp in response to the surprise and obvious pain.

Smarting and suitably chastised, she clamped her knees back together and desperately tried to compose herself for returning to work.

...

It had been an excitable week of task completion and evidence offering. The very last task he had given her though had been slightly different. It wasn't a task about being nude and training her sluttiness to associate to music.

She had been told to write her own slut fantasy; her own expectation of a future date. Her own thoughts about how she could be used and to describe the innermost sexual secrets and fantasies she held.

But for two days she had procrastinated. For two days she had fobbed him off with tiredness. For two days she held a reluctance to share.

She knew he didn't believe her; that she didn't want to have her fate in her own hands. She knew that she would be amenable to everything he would choose and decide upon; that the surprises his mischievous mind would bring were infinitely preferable to her premeditated and written thoughts. Her fantasies were hers and she worried that she would be judged on them if she shared them.

And so she was going to meet him that very Saturday night, having videoed herself slapping her own pussy once upon each hour previously throughout the day with a time stamp written across her pubic area in black drywipe ink. This had been a punishment for not being able to complete her task; a punishment for not being able to be Sir's good girl and to tell him her deepest fantasies. A small price to pay for her insubordination.

Her pussy was now feeling very sore and her labia had spent most of the day curled through her outer lips in readiness for each moment of abuse. As the day had worn on, her cry of pain altered slightly from being a squeak to the infinitely more erotic grunt of acceptance as her hand made sharp contact with her soft, freshly depilated area. She had no option except to beat herself, and she made the best of it.

As excited as she had felt all day, her task constantly in her mind with her body constantly open on display, it was that night she felt most enthused for, and the thought of it that had kept her going all that day.

He had alluded to several suggestions of sub/Dom games they could play across several different messages and as she sat at her dressing table, applying her sluttiest makeup to her eyes, face and lips ready for their meeting, her mind couldn't help but replay them.

As they were meeting at a halfway point, he had told her that she would be putting her clothes into one car, and they would be driving on in the other.

She couldn't help but moisten at that thought. It was one thing to be naked in the car, but having her clothing close by to redress in case of embarrassment or issue was a safe comfort. Not having them there? Being totally Sir's open and ready slut? Well, that was a major turn on.

And then there was the question of where they would drive when in the one car. Would he put her music on for the journey? Would he need and be able to cope with that level and amount of squirt across his leather car seats if she couldn't help herself?

He had mentioned the local fast food drive through franchise, the local high street and the brightly lit forecourt of the fuel station.

Even now, her hand was shaking as she ran the mascara brush around her eyes. She couldn't help but breathe heavily at the idea that she would be butt naked in the passenger seat of a car stuck in a slow moving queue past a burger joint kiosk.

Would he allow her to cross her legs? Would she get away with folded arms across her naked chest? Would she be allowed to see or would he insist on a blindfold?

There was a certain comfort in not knowing. She could really understand the phrase about sticking your head in the sand right now. Divorcing herself from her body might be the way to go, or he might make her keep her eyes open the whole time. Take and watch the full experience and feel as well as hear her breathing deepen as anybody neared the vehicle. That would be missing if she wasn't aware of the possible exposure. Serenity wasn't always as sexy as a little bit of fear or trepidation.

She expected her pussy to be a strong indicator of how the rest of her body would feel at that point. It rarely felt dry these days, but it would either dry up with her nerves, or leak copiously into the foot well at her excitement.

She trusted him of course. Trusted that he would lean forward and block the view of her as their car crept forward. But even if he didn't, her face would most likely still be in darkness and it was just her lower body that the overworked kiosk operator would see.

She took some comfort in the idea of remaining anonymous as they went through, just an open wet cunt and rock hard nipples by the feeling of them now at the thought.

She could imagine returning the words 'I'll do as I'm told' if asked her opinion. Even now with her shaking hands and nervous knee movement, she couldn't wait to put herself totally in her Dom's hands.

She wanted to look her best as she wanted to dance for him. Dance as though they were the only two people in the world. Dance to Venus as a Boy. Dance and strip in front of the headlights of the car. Dance to express her excitement and desire for him. Let her hands move on her body like they were a lover's. She danced around her own home happily enough; could she show her Dom her moves?

She had cum on camera before of course, but in the comfort and warmth of her own house. A towel laid on the floor to catch the squirt, her body turned sideways to protect some of her modesty.

Cumming in front of the car, whilst in it's headlights was next level erotic. No need to worry about the mess. No need or necessity to be coy. Her hands at her pussy and to hell with the spray.

She grinned to herself.

Rouge now on her cheekbones.

He had mentioned putting her in the back of his SUV with the blacked out rear windows for the naked ride out. Not particularly naughty or terrifyingly erotic about that except that he had told her that she would be expected to cum on his agenda, whether that was at his touch or whilst waiting for that moment or two between paying at the drive through and the collection of the goods, or even at crossing lights alongside a club at kicking out time.

He had mentioned turning her upside down and propping her up by her mouth on his cock. She had no doubt of his strength to do such a thing. She being on the shortish side without much, if any, extra body fat and he being tall and muscular, it would be a welcome indignity to have her legs opened above her, the blood and excitement sinking to her head and face, her wet and open pussy at his face.

"He's exploring.

The taste of her arousal.

So accurate..."

Her opinion on the matter irrelevant, there would be nothing else to do but concentrate on taking him as deeply into her mouth as she could, while his face and tongue invaded between her open legs and open presented crack and pray that they weren't observed.

Her deep breaths stirred the blusher in the shallow make up tray, small poofs of dust rising in gentle spirals.

She had had the fantasy of being made to put on a sex show for a group of faceless suited men for a while now. A solitary masturbation event with a variety of toys or just open legs as a dirty slut. They would be watching her for their own amusement as though a matinee or evening performance.

There was a dogging carpark not far from where they were going to meet. Would this be a preferred destination at some point in the evening? Could she admit this fantasy to him.

The music, always in her soul, played yet again in her head.

"He believes in a beauty.

He's Venus as a boy."

Maybe they would be stroking their own erections; maybe taking pictures or video footage.

Those quiet evenings she had spent in her bed with the vibe resting against her clit had often been accompanied by thoughts of being used as a high price whore, her body on sale to the man who bid the highest price; or a low rent slut, a cheap humiliating experience, used merely as a cum dump.

Even now, the wonder if this was the night for any of that to come true played at the periphery of her mind and imagination.

Too much blusher. Fuck. Was she trying to look like the whore of her imagination? She tried to dust herself off.

She wondered if Sir would let anyone touch her; wank directly over her; use her in any way. As much as the recurring fantasy was quite strong and personal, she had never been with anyone she felt strong enough to protect her in that situation. To allow the fantasy as far as she wished to take it, but only as far as predetermined and with no actual danger or after affects.

"So accurate.

He sets off the beauty in her."

Looking down, she noticed a pool of stain between her legs on the upholstery on which she was seated. It was obvious her sore pussy was still dribbling excitedly, despite the slight bruising she had caused to herself.

There was something about the fantasy of being outside her own control. To being a plaything. To doing as she was told. It was exciting. Demeaning, most certainly. Humiliating, obviously. But very, very exciting.

She stood and observed her body in the mirror. He wouldn't be able to resist it. After taking it like a good girl, being amenable to his every whim, to taking his cock wherever he wished to put it, he wouldn't be able to resist holding her in his arms to hold her close.

But...

She had some moves of her own which she wished to share tonight too, and couldn't wait for afterwards to hold him in hers.

TBC