The Training of Cecelia Ch. 03

The Training of Cecelia Ch. 3

Summary: Proud woman begins complete submission tasks for Master.

Note 1: Thanks to TigerSir for suggesting this novella and many of its themes, and for pushing my limits a little.

Note 2: Thanks to Tex Beethoven and TigerSir for editing this ambitious story.

Note 3: This is part three of what I'm certain will become a lengthy novella. Also, although it contains a lot of typical silkstockingslover themes, this one digs deeper into BDSM than I usually venture.

In part one, Cecelia, a CEO with a major ego, is put in her place by a company fixer who sees past her strong-willed female persona to her natural submissive nature, and he begins training her to be a completely submissive slut.

In part two, Cecelia has spent the night at her Master's house, and the next morning she learns the pleasures of bondage, delayed orgasms and anal sex. She also agrees to fulfill seven (as yet unrevealed) tasks over the next seven days for Master Paul.

And now... after her anal submission, she deals with going back to work as a completely submissive slut, ready to fulfill task 1.

I arrived home early on Sunday afternoon... exhausted from the wildest, wickedest and sexually charged night and morning of my entire life!

I stripped down to my stockings, went straight to bed and crashed hard... emotionally, mentally and physically drained.

When I woke after a three-hour nap... feeling surprisingly refreshed and relaxed... even though it followed my gross series of humiliations of the past evening and morning, along with my mindless submission... a major highlight of which was willingly giving up my ass to Master Paul... and it all came flooding back.

Ultimate pleasure unlike anything I'd ever experienced.

The ultimate thrill of my complete and mindless obedience to the first man ever who understood my needs... not just sexually, but also psychologically, and I'm certain in many other ways as well.

The ultimate humiliation of my being bound, used and sodomized with no questions asked... at least not verbally... about what I could or couldn't endure.

Recollecting what had happened made my pussy tingle yet again... even while guilt washed over me.

I'd not only cheated on my husband Joseph... but I'd given another man my unconditional obedience and total access to my body, and especially to my virgin ass.

As if through my guilt God was glaring down at me, my phone buzzed... my ringer was still turned off, I realized. I hustled out of bed, snatched up the phone, and saw my husband was the one calling.

"Hey," I answered, a fresh wave of guilt washing through me.

"You really are taking a serious reprieve from technology," he observed, sounding very concerned.

"Yeah," I agreed, yawning slightly. "I've also been sleeping all afternoon," I said, which was also true.

"It's almost four."

"So it is," I said, glancing at the bedside clock.

"So you're okay?" he asked, sounding genuinely worried.

After a lengthy pause, unsure of what to say, I answered honestly, "I'm a lot of things, but I'm not certain okay is one of them."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing and everything," I answered, probably sounding like a nut job.

"You're not making much sense."

"I know," I said. "Maybe it's just menopause, but I'm an emotional wreck right now."

"I'll be home tomorrow," he said. "I hope that will help."

"Good, and I think it will, because we need to talk," I said... words I know every man dreads coming from his wife or his woman.

"I'm not sure whether that's good or bad."

"I'm not either; I suppose it depends on how you look at it," I said, knowing I was to blame for all the decisions I'd made, for better or worse... but another factor was his ongoing lack of understanding of me and my needs, since that lack had helped to make me vulnerable enough to make my recent bad decisions... or perhaps they were good ones... I no longer knew which. One puzzle was that while I was talking with Joseph my regret for my sins didn't feel as extreme, yet it wasn't completely gone, either. Which seemed ludicrous; it was probably just my subconscious trying to evade my guilt, but maybe... just maybe... my sexual submission to Master Paul could... dare I even to think it?... save our marriage.

"You're still not making a lot of sense."

"I know," I said. "I think that's because this conversation won't work over the phone, but only when we're face to face."

"That sounds ominous," he recognized accurately.

"Maybe, maybe not. And I'm only being so deliberately vague, because I may have some really good news, or some really bad news," I explained, knowing I wasn't explaining anything, while I wondered how he'd receive the truth... which I didn't plan to hide from him any longer than until tomorrow. He deserved to know the truth, regardless of how well or how badly he reacted, or whatever impact it would have on our marriage.

"This is sounding really, really ominous," he said sounding extremely concerned.

"I know, and I'm sorry I can't tell you any more over the phone, but I promise to make things clear to you tomorrow. I've learned some things about myself," I said. "Or more accurately, I've finally accepted some things about myself I've been in denial about for years."

"Such as?"

"Sorry, but I still need to put you off for now. It's a complicated issue, and we need to discuss it in person," I insisted.

"You have me more than a little worried," he said. And his tone of voice made it clear that he was.

"Actually, I like that you're worried."

"You do?"

"Yes, your growing neglect of me is one of the reasons I went to some rather extreme lengths, which resulted in my discovering some undeniable truths about myself."

"This entire conversation is very cryptic."

"Simply put, I may have found a way to save our marriage."

"What?! Our actual marriage is in trouble?" he asked, sounding astonished.

"You don't think it is?" I asked, answering his question with another question.

"Well..." he said dubiously, followed by a lengthy pause. Then, "I guess things haven't been going as smoothly as they used to," he finally admitted.

"Exactly. And we're both to blame for our marriage gradually dwindling into becoming nothing more than two people living in the same house, sharing minimal affection with each other," I said. "I have some regrets about the part I've played in that, and I believe I've come to accept my responsibility for it... but I refuse to share an unhappy and unfulfilling life with you any longer."

"You're not happy?" he asked, sounding a bit less astonished, but far from pleased about my ominous declaration.

"Are you?" I countered, again answering his question with another one.

"I'm not unhappy."

"Just what every wife wants to hear."

"You just told me you're unhappy," he pointed out.

"I've been unhappy and unsatisfied for a long time, Joseph," I said bluntly, there being no reason to beat around the bush. "But that ends now. Or I guess tomorrow, when we have our talk. I've recently embarked upon a journey of self-actualization and self-acceptance. I'm working towards becoming my authentic self, and there's no way I'm turning back."

"I can't even imagine what that might look like. But whatever it is, I want to take part in that journey with you," he said, sounding rather desperate.

I refused to sugar-coat anything in this conversation... which was only a preliminary one to the actual conversation we'd be having tomorrow. "You may or may not be up to it, hence the need for our heart to heart tomorrow, while we can look each other right in the face. I'm not saying you and I are quits... far from it... and if you are up for it I'll be thrilled, but it's going to be a very intense journey," I warned, truly happy to hear him... unasked... volunteering to be a part of it, sight unseen.

"I'll do anything to keep you, Cecilia," he pledged, sounding concerned, worried, desperate, and still very much in love with me. Which he hadn't been particularly demonstrating for a long time, but hey... if I could respond to an urgent wakeup call, why couldn't he?

And his using my name instead of some generic term, made me smile; it meant he understood I was deadly serious about this. But still... "'Anything' is a pretty big promise," I pointed out... "and pretty all-encompassing,"... knowing secretly at this point that this particular 'anything' would mean his becoming not only a cuckold who'd repeatedly watch me getting fucked by my Master, but would also almost inevitably lead to his becoming a cock-sucking bottom for our Master!

"I realize that, and I repeat: I'll do anything to keep you, Cecilia, you mean everything to me," he said, sounding like he might even start crying.

"I hear your sincerity sweetheart, and I'm touched by it, but fair warning: I'm going to expect an awful lot from you," I accepted his pledge... for now... but also didn't back down from what I'd be requiring from him, feeling both rather guilty about what he was blindly agreeing to, but also feeling a growing sense of power, since it was beginning to look like I could have my cake (Master Paul and all his rigorous training) and eat it too (still remain married to Joseph)! Although Paul had told me he'd already accepted many couples into his stable, and within each couple both the woman and the man had submitted to him unconditionally, within certain mutually agreed upon limits... those limits possibly unique to each couple, I wasn't sure about that point... I hadn't been certain that would be even feasible in Joseph's case... yet now I wondered with some glimmering hope whether it might be.

"I need to become a better man," he volunteered, again without my asking him to.

"Yes, you do," I said, then decided to drop my first hint of what I'd be requiring of him into this conversation. "One requirement will be exploring your feminine side."

"I'll do it," he said without hesitation. Then joked, "Although I have no idea what that will even look like."

"You'll see," I said, recalling as I used the word 'see' my new slut nickname from Master: Seesee... which wasn't as flattering as Barbie, which was the diminutive nickname Paul had given to the Honourable Senator from Massachusetts Barbara Brown... which made me once again wonder whether her husband... a nationally prominent business man... was not only a cuckold to Paul... which he certainly was, even though Paul had only confirmed that fact obliquely... but perhaps also one of his bottoms.

"I love you," Joseph said.

"I love you too," I responded sincerely. "But it's time for those words to be demonstrated with your actions."

"I'll do better," he promised.

"I hope so," I said, not letting him off the hook for his lack of backing up those words with any actions at all in the recent past, where 'recent' meant a decade or so.

"I promise I will," he said earnestly.

"I believe you," I said, "but what I'll be expecting of you will be at least as powerful as our wedding vows. It's a commitment that will bring us closer together if we stay the course, but it will also push our limits."

"You need to tell me what you mean by that," he said.

"I will, I promise; but only in person," I stressed. "I've only given you generalities so far, and we need to discuss any details face to face, like I said."

"Okay," he agreed with a reluctant sigh. "You've gotten me pretty stressed out, you know."

"Good," I said, knowing that comeback was a little mean, but necessary.

I then received a text from Paul. "Honey, give me a moment."

I clicked on the text and read: Remember the rules, slut. In case you don't have them all memorized, here they are again.

I then received nine texts in a row... each one binging loudly enough that Paul would hear it.

I said to Joseph, "Sorry sweetheart, but something came up and I have to go. We'll talk about all this in detail tomorrow night."

"Um, okay, I...." he began, but I hung up... my pussy immediately stimulated just from receiving these emails from Master.

ONE -- you shall obey each and every order I give you without hesitation, within your agreed upon limits, or unless you use your safe word. However, using your safe word too often will necessitate a reassessment of our relationship.

TWO -- you shall wear either a garter belt and stockings, or thigh high stockings at all times, work or play... and of course no panties, unless it's that time of the month.

THREE -- you shall of course maintain your pussy completely smooth -- I dislike stubble, so this means either laser hair removal or waxing.

FOUR -- you shall already be kneeling whenever I arrive and we're not being observed -- unless I show up unexpectedly. And in that case, you shall immediately face me and drop to your knees.

FIVE -- you shall invariably address me as Master, unless you have reason to believe some third party might hear you.

SIX -- you shall read and respond to my texts twenty-four seven.

SEVEN -- we shall cuckold Joseph sometime soon. Meaning we'll have sex right in front of him in such a way there will be no question in his mind we're aware of his presence. You will also play a key role in his submission to me.

EIGHT -- you shall only come with permission from your Master whether I'm present or not, even if you're having sex with your husband.

NINE -- you shall always eat my loads, no matter where I shoot them.

As I reread the rules he'd given me verbally during an early stage of my submission, I felt a literal gush pouring out of my pussy.

He then texted me again: And now for TEN -- all three of your fuck holes are to be available to me whenever I wish, wherever I wish, and with whomsoever I wish. For my part, I commit to never placing your career or your physical safety at risk -- although occasionally it may appear at first that I am.

The 'whenever' and 'wherever' excited me... the 'with whomsoever' a little less so. Having sex with another woman wasn't really cheating, in my view... my husband didn't have a pussy to offer me after all, nor could he ever eat a pussy anywhere near as well as a woman could. But on the other hand, cheating on him with Master, although that was undoubtably considered infidelity, and even legal grounds for divorce, I saw as my taking necessary steps towards saving my marriage. Only through finding myself and exploring my sexuality with the knowledgeable and demanding Master Paul, could I ever find any contentment at work, at home, and in my marriage.

I texted back: Of course, Master Paul. I accept all ten of these rules, plus any subsequent ones you may choose to issue to me in the future.

I stared at my phone and the three dots... indicating he was keeping the line open with me... for over five minutes... before at last he responded: Good girl. You may give yourself an orgasm for your obedience. But you must use an object for penetration not usually considered a sex toy, take and send me a picture of it deep inside your pussy; and after coming, another of you licking your juices off of it.

Somehow... even following the complete pleasure assault upon my body last night, and again this morning... my pussy was still tingling with need!

I responded: Thank you, Master Paul.

After agreeing to Master's generous and unexpected offer, I wasn't sure what I should actually use. I googled, because everything is on google, and found more than one authentic website article offering suggestions: washing machine, bedpost, tv remote, calculator, coffee pot (I couldn't fathom how), candlestick holder, bicycle seat, table leg, chair arm, doorknob, plunger, wine bottle, coke bottle, end of a bed (again, huh?), pillow, spoon, stir stick, whisk, rolling pin, sharpie, candle (unsanitary... actually many of these were likely unsanitary), broomstick, curling iron, hairbrush handle, turkey baster, flashlight, hammer, screwdriver, or even a wrench.

Just as I was shaking my head at many of those offerings, I encountered a long list of vegetables: cucumber, carrot, banana, zucchini, celery, radish, leeks, eggplants and summer squash.

I shook my head again....

With none of those offerings striking me as ideal choices, I found another website focussing on household objects being utilised as discreet sex toys. A showerhead, which I'd used on more than one occasion; a bathtub faucet, which I'd never thought about using; an electric toothbrush, which was intriguing, and something I had used; a spatula, which they pointed out could be used to fuck a pussy or to spank an ass: a multi-purpose tool; and a running blender... which was intriguing.

I considered my washing machine as an option... I'd seen the odd movie scene where a woman leaned her pussy against the washing machine or even just sat it, but my instruction from Master was to fuck myself with something inside my pussy, and there was no way even a rounded corner of this appliance could penetrate me.

So no showerhead either, even though I really wanted to use that. Then an idea came to me: I could fuck myself in the shower with something else... while also using the powerful stream of my showerhead to add some extra zing!

Still essentially naked, I went through the house, and upon checking the kitchen, I discovered I needed to go shopping, since I had no cucumbers or zucchinis on hand, and the only fruit appropriately shaped was a banana; and that was going brown, so it wasn't solid enough to do the job.

So after going through my utensils drawer, I choose a wide wooden spoon. It was super long and wide, and I figured once I had it inside me, I could rotate it around as I fucked myself with it.

Still wearing my stockings, I went back upstairs and to the shower... turned it on... turned the showerhead to a pulse stream that was rather like a firehose at full blast... and then I stepped into the shower, and allowed the showerhead's torrent to work its magic.

"Oooooh," I moaned, and as the warm water pounded directly on my slit, I slid the bowl of the spoon inside my pussy.

I then held the showerhead with one hand while I fucked myself with the other, turning the handle as I plunged it back and forth to really stimulate my insides. The water pressure, my horniness, and the spoon fucking had me at a fever's pitch in only a few heartbeats.

I reached for my phone (fortunately a waterproof model), which I'd placed on the other side of the curtain, and I took a picture of my pussy with the wooden spoon deep inside of it, as the intense warm spray hammered my clit and my pussy.

I set the phone back down, and resumed furiously fucking myself with the spoon, pumping and twisting it around while aiming the intensely focused spay directly against my sensitive clit... which resulted in yet another orgasm in my shorter than twenty-four hour banquet of sexual pleasure.

I dropped the showerhead as I leaned back against the shower wall, and just allowed the orgasm to continue cascading through me for the longest time.

Once it was done, I reached for my phone again, and filmed myself pulling the impressively large spoon out for extra effect, and then sucked my cum off of it... which I had to admit tasted pretty good. I also snapped a couple of pictures with the spoon in my mouth, before I sent Master all of the pics and the video.