The Ad Pt. 01

My life was boring when I answered The Ad.

I worked in an office. I went on dates. Sometimes I had sex. It was unfulfilling. I wanted something more. Something exciting. I wasn't sure exactly what that would be, but I knew it had to be more. I knew it had to have that element that makes you slightly uneasy. Or even, very uneasy. Stretching your boundaries. Maybe destroying them. I needed excitement. Then I saw the ad.

It was in one of those free "lifestyle" magazines you pick up in a coffee shop. The ads in the back, for "massage" and escorts. It read:

"Female Training.

Females in need of training may apply in person.

Strict requirements. Demanding regimen. Fulfilling experience to applicants.

For initial screening appointment phone:

(xxx) xxx-xxxx"

I kept the magazine as if I would act on it, or think about acting on it. I thought about it frequently but never picked up the phone, at once terrified and thrilled at what may happen.

After a particularly boring date and an insulting attempt on his part to bed me I realized the only thing that could go wrong with the call was for it to result in more boredom. That in itself was a risk. As long as I didn't act on it, at least the possibility still existed. If I acted on it and it turned out to be stupid, even my fantasy of some kind of adventure or escape would be dashed. But just maybe...

I dialed the number the next morning while sitting in my car outside the office building I worked at.

The phone rang three times. My heart was racing. I tried to convince myself it was an ad for phone sex operators or topless dancers, just to keep myself grounded and manage my expectations. But what if... What if it was something more? Just as my excitement turned to disappointment a man answered the phone in a calm tone.

"Hello..."

"Ah, Hello. I am calling about the ad."

There was a long, silent pause.

"...And what is your age?"

"24"

"Are you female?" They were oddly simple questions but seemed deeply intrusive for some reason.

"Yes."

"Go to www.training24society.com and follow the instructions. Thank you."

The phone hung up. That was it. My adrenaline raced. I moistened, realizing I was clutching my thighs together.

I thought about visiting the site at work but worried it could just be a porn site that the company server would block anyway. I didn't want any record of me being involved in whatever this would be.

My thoughts wandered to the man's voice all day long. It was impossible to focus at work. "Are you female?" I felt myself begin to lubricate again.

When I got home I sat down to my computer. There were messages on Facebook from guys trying to "friend" me, probably for more boring dates and attempts at my sex. I blew past them to get to training24society.com.

The page only had text. It read:

"Caller from (xxx) xxx-XXXX (my number!) initial screening 8:00 PM, October 10, Thursday.

xxx Mission, Birmingham, Michigan, Suite x."

The initial "screening" was in two days. There was no clue of what would happen, what was required.

The two days passed oddly. I would forget the appointment, the "screening", for an hour or two when occupied with daily life. Then it would come back to me. Excitement rose in me. I was looking forward to it- the unknown, the risk, the daring. The secret was precious. Only mine. Not even I knew what would happen. I'll tell you, I was praying this wasn't going to be a letdown at the same time forcing myself to accept that it likely would be. I wasn't even sure what I really wanted- what would have been a best-case scenario for me. I just wanted to be... pushed. Stretched beyond my comfort zone. Rather than being the person doing the pushing of boundaries, I wanted to be pulled beyond my boundaries.

Thursday came and I woke early for some reason. I don't know why it mattered, but I shaved myself carefully that morning. Smoothly and completely. It looked good. I realized this likely had nothing to do with my appointment- my "screening", but I did it anyway out of... anticipation. Even if this came to nothing at least it was a source of excitement and wonder for a few days. Clearly, it was about what wasn't known. The mystery. The lack of control.

I left work early and stopped at the mall on the way home. I wanted a new bra and panties for the meeting. I bought a small, black, sheer thong and a black, padded, add two cup-size push up bra. I also bought black stay up stockings to wear under my suit. I was truly beginning to hope this didn't end in some kind of disappointment.

I went home and showered, did my hair, put on my new thong, push-up bra and stockings. I luxuriated in them for a couple of minutes, posing. I looked hot, arching my back in the mirror, adjusting my tits in the padded bra cups. Straightening the little straps of my G-string panties on my hips and between ass cheeks. I pulled on my suit- one you would wear to a job interview, although without the padded bra, thong and stockings perhaps. I looked good. The bra added two full cup sizes. The buttons on my blouse were straining. They could handle my 34C's, but my padded DD's were a stretch. I grinned. My little, sheer, black thong felt snug. With the stockings and thong, it was breezy under my skirt. I had never worn this skirt with a thong before and the fabric felt rough against my ass cheeks. It was a turn-on, as if I needed any more.

It was a quick drive from my place. I found the address, an office building in Royal Oak. I rode the elevator to the third floor. I went to Suite "C". The only marking was the "C" on the door. I opened the door and stepped in.

It was just a room, like a lawyer's office, but no furniture. Nothing. An empty room with no windows but a mirrored wall opposite where I stood. It was vacant. Just as I began to think this was a scam or a hoax I heard the voice from the phone over some kind of speaker.

"Some forms will be mailed to your address. Study them carefully. If you agree to the terms and circumstances described in the forms, sign each of them and wait for a phone call. You are dismissed."

That was it.

I drove home wavering between disappointment and more fascination. The meeting was utterly anonymous. I never saw another person- I only heard the voice. I doubt it lasted more than one minute.

The form came the next day via FedEx to my place. I thought it might be some stupid release for nude photos or something. It was thick, a number of pages long. When I read the first sentence it was as if the rest of the world evaporated. All I could see was what was on the page.

"You are a candidate for sex slave training."

My pussy soaked. I was at once frightened and thrilled.

"Signing indicates acceptance of the terms... Willingly and freely submit...Every type of sexual act... bondage...multiple partners of both genders...obedience...Secrecy..."

The document was filled with every sexual-perversion imaginable. The use of medical equipment, electricity, machines... It was endless. I couldn't believe what I was reading. I stood up from the table, walked into the bedroom, pulled off my dress pants and slipped off my G-string and grabbed my vibrator. I squeezed KY on it, laid back on the bed and plunged it into my pussy, pushing it all the way in on the first insertion- as deep as it would go. I held it, forcing it up myself, being rough with myself.

"...discipline...strong bondage...willingly submit to forced sexual acts..."

I needed it. I needed what the contract said. I started pumping myself. I pumped hard, then, when the pumping wasn't enough, I pushed the vibrator up my pussy and stood, holding it inside me. I slowly removed my blouse and bra. I pinched my nipples. I knew I would need to get used to this, to being handled roughly and deliberately, to being used for sex.

I clamped myself around the vibrator and stepped back from the bed- naked, buzzing vibrator up my cunt. This was training now, I told myself. I felt like I was in a frenzy. Training for what was coming- what would be done to me, what would happen to me, "...forced sexual acts".

I put my hands on the bed and did the splits, trying to hold the buzzing vibrator up me. I did the splits all the way to the ground holding the vibrator inside my vagina. I forced myself to the floor, legs spread, the floor wedging the plastic vibro up me. It hurt a little, and it felt good.

I rolled forward, legs spread, tits out, arching my back.

"I am so ready for this," I thought. As I rolled forward, the hard-plastic dick drove into me like a spike. Something happened, the vibrator shifted, my clit touched the floor- I had a violent orgasm.

Still in the splits I humped myself down and up, my hair flying, gripping the bed, legs fully apart, tits bouncing, jiggling. Nipples fully erect, my areolae swollen. My bare, smooth pussy wide and crammed with vibrating plastic. I rammed down on the vibrator trapped inside me- it would stab me at the bottom, but pump me as I bounced upward, then stab again as I rammed down, forcing it up my cunt. A damp spot was forming on the floor. I had a flash of what would happen if I somehow hurt myself. I was in the emergency room, still naked, vibrator buried up my cunt. I would tell them, "I am training to be a sex slave by forcing this up myself and it got stuck." I would be honest, I would tell them everything.

My mind whirled through a succession of wild sexual images- me being fucked in every way, me slurping a big, anonymous cock. Me being in bondage. The whole thing felt so right. At that moment, I could not get enough sexual stimulation.

I lost count of how many times I had to masturbate before I heard from them again.