Training Tom Ch. 02: Humility Pt. 01

All characters are eighteen years or older.

Training Tom Volume 2: Humility, Chapter 1

Tom Douglas awoke with a sense of verve and optimism. The night had been his most restful in months. He could not recall the details of his dreams, but he knew they had been hopeful and uplifting, with his daughter's gorgeous friend Sophie a constant fixture in the action.

The thought of her made him tingle from head to toe. She was his special muse, his obsession, his everything. Sophie was perfection in human form; Michelangelo could not have chiseled a woman more flawless.

A star athlete, she stood 6'5" with massive perky breasts, a full muscular ass, and a toned body capable of both untold strength and exquisite finesse. She was brilliant in every way: radiantly intelligent, shining with confidence, dazzlingly beautiful, a beacon of uncanny wisdom. She wielded an innate luminescent power over the people around her, effortlessly influencing their emotions and actions to her wishes. And yet she was only eighteen, only now coming of age, only just scratching the surface of her limitless potential.

Tom turned his nude body slightly and felt a multitude of pains ripple throughout him: aches in his head and balls, soreness in his muscles, tenderness on his ass, throbs in his neck and shoulder, stings all over his skin - including the shaft of his cock in the throes of morning wood.

Sophie's night of punishment and domination came flooding back into his head. He recalled the scratches and pricks left by her spiked clothing, the bruises of her spanks and slaps, the wound of the bite upon his shoulder...the twists, kicks, shoves, squeezes, slams, throws...and most of all the acute mental anguish.

Tom suddenly noticed his mouth sucking down hard against his pursed lips. He yearned for the sanctuary of Sophie's bosom to dampen the harrowing memories. The succor of her breast was ironically his only antidote for the trauma of her brutality. With a jolt he remembered the gift she had given him, even more the reason to pine for her -- he was starving.

Incredibly, Sophie had willed her mammary glands to produce for him, cementing his relationship to her as her reborn son, locking in his dependency. He had loved her before, but an even deeper passion took hold the moment her motherly juices flowed. She told him he would now be made of her, and he couldn't think of anything more quintessential to his future being than to emulate - or perhaps even duplicate - Her Perfection.

Laboriously, Tom rolled over and noticed a nondescript lotion tube on the bedside table next to a container of Advil. He recalled the salve Sophie had applied to his fresh wounds the night before. He reached for the squeezable bottle, his skin smarting as he stretched. Then he noticed a note underneath and quickly snatched it, rolling onto his back. The handwriting was impeccable despite being written in thick Sharpie.

Apply this balm liberally to all open sores. Take ibuprofen as needed for the pain.

He could see the shadow of more writing on the other side and flipped it over.

And in the fridge you'll find the blissful cure to the remainder of your suffering...

The second note ended in a smiley face with a tongue sticking out of the corner. Hungry face!

Tom leapt from the bed and hurried awkwardly to the refrigerator, his stiff body only half-responding to his brain's commands. He flung open the door and on the top shelf was a quart-sized glass milk bottle, about two-thirds full of yellowish cream. A small stick-on bow adorned the cap and a handwritten label hung from the neck:

To: Tom

From: ___

He recognized the odd allusion to Evan's Halloween costume the night before; To: Women, From: God, aka 'God's gift to women'. He had watched in rapture as Sophie spanked his daughter's impudent boyfriend on her lap at the party.

For a moment he pondered what she meant by the blank letters. God's gift to Tom? Mom's gift to Tom? Then he realized she must have come with the bottle already prepared that way. How and why had she known Evan's costume in advance?

His thoughts were interrupted by a rumble in his stomach. He reached for the milk and saw another note under it.

Be sure to nurse this carefully, it is your only ration for the day. Know that its immaculate properties are sacrosanct - do not microwave, overheat or mix with anything.

His heart sank when he realized he wouldn't be seeing Sophie that day. Although another part of him flushed with relief. He had been unable to eat normal food for 3 weeks prior to his first feeding at her breast, practically starving himself into an emaciated waif. He truly loved suckling, but the dependency also caused him profound anxiety. He had fretted over what would happen if circumstances prevented their meeting. It now dawned on him that she could pump for him and was wholly committed to ensuring his sustenance. He felt a longing ache in his bellybutton as the magnitude of his new Mother's care and generosity became clear.

He re-read her words and gleaned the religious connotations in the purity and perfection of her gift. He thought of the blank in the note: She was both his Mother and his Goddess, the milk of her breast was at once life giving and a sacrament to his devotion. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, struck by the reverence he felt for her, bordering on religious fervor.

Opening his eyes, he turned the note over, and his heart leapt into his throat:

Meet me for "breakfast" tomorrow at 5:00 AM sharp. Four Seasons downtown, suite 2400.

A hotel key card was taped to the paper.

The word "breakfast" broke Tom's reverie, and he immediately untwisted the cap. He whiffed the open container and memories of the previous night came streaming back. He greedily raised the bottle toward his mouth, craving Sophie's sublime essence -- but something made him pause.

As hungry as he was, he wanted to truly savor it. He wouldn't see Sophie today, but he could still commune with her and imagine himself at her breast. It had to be warm.

The guest cottage on his property where he was staying had a kitchenette with a two-burner gas stove. He grabbed a small saucepan and poured about a third of the contents into it, then set it to the lowest flame to ensure it warmed gently.

He walked into to the bathroom to piss and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His body was savagely pierced, scratched and bruised all over. Yet amazingly the natural pallor had returned to his face. The sallow, unhealthy look was almost completely gone. After only one feeding from Sophie!

A part of him doubted it was her milk in particular, rather it was simply the restoration of calories he had lacked. But deep down he sensed that something miraculous had begun, that he was already being revitalized and rebuilt by Her. His heart skipped a beat as he speculated what weeks or months of ingesting her wondrous elixir might do for him.

After pissing, he strode back into the bedroom and clumsily bumped his foot on the door jamb. Curiously, something jingled faintly below.

He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled his foot up to examine. On his ankle was the 24-link chain Sophie had permanently affixed the night he had been reborn. He had practically forgotten it was there. A small charm now hung from one of the links. He couldn't remember her adding it last night, but he surmised she must have.

He looked closer at the charm and noticed it was actually a tiny padlock, complete with a minuscule keyhole in the bottom. He grasped it and tugged lightly. Unexpectedly he felt an ache in his balls and his cock pulled in on itself. Startled, he quickly let go and set his foot back on the floor.

I have successfully trained you in the virtue of chastity...

He recalled her words and realized the symbolism of the new trinket. His cock quickly restored to its normal length as he felt Sophie's psychological grip on his testicles loosen.

Before he could think too hard about the odd sensations, he remembered the lotion. He picked it up and squirted some in his hand, then began rubbing it on his open sores. The sudden soothing effect exposed the pervasive discomfort he had almost grown accustomed to. He noticed that the subtle scent strangely reminded him of Sophie. Accelerating his efforts, he quickly spread it on all the areas of damaged skin. He was even able to rub some on his raw penis without an adverse reaction. Her mental lock usually prevented him from touching it, but he presumed he had her medical permission.

After washing his hands, Tom returned to the stove and stuck the tip of his pinkie in the liquid. The temperature was just right.

He took down an empty coffee mug from the cabinet and poured in the warm milk, careful not to spill a drop. Then he sat in his desk chair, closed his eyes and raised the mug, breathing in deeply. The warm vapors entered his nose, filling it with the unmistakable aroma of Sophie. His cock immediately hardened.

He touched the ceramic to his lips and took a small sip. He was suddenly transported to the comfort of Sophie's lap. He imagined his lips attached to her nipple, his nose depressed into the soft skin of her areola. He wished she could be there holding him. Yet inside he could sense her there. She was always there. She was inside of him.

With each small sip, elation gradually overtook him. His rigid cock began throbbing in his lap, pumping in her slick, nimble hand. Words floated across his eyes.

you'll transform into a whole new you, a better you...you'll be made of me

The sentences had been communicated over a month apart, yet they were timelessly bound together in spirit. Spontaneously Tom spoke out loud, issuing a mantra:

"I'm a new man, a better man...made of Sophie."

His body convulsed with a rush of elation. In a bizarre turnabout, he imagined he was Sophie, rubbing her enflamed vulva on his face in her volleyball shorts, just as she had done in a school parking lot weeks ago.

He experienced the searing heat in her crotch; the tantalizing pressure on her clitoris; the unfamiliar thrill of complete dominance and power over another human being. Him.

Then something deep inside his groin tingled and vibrated, unlike any sensation he had felt before. It was like a giant bundle of nerves materialized and coursed with electricity.

With a sudden burst, he felt her G-spot erupt with wave after wave of intense pleasure -- inside of him.

"Aaaaah," he cried uncontrollably, channeling the intonation of her moan on that cool fall evening.

As he slowly came down from the high, he was dumbstruck with how close he felt to Sophie. It was as if he had transported into her body, or transfigured his own body to become Her, experiencing her orgasmic pleasure as if it were his own.

He looked in the mug and it was empty. He looked at his cock and it was dry. But his heart was full, and he felt Sophie's carnal energy running through his veins. He was one with Her.

As the sensations ended, a bout of anxiety hit him. Despite the lack of ejaculation, had he just cum without her permission? He reasoned that she had called it a "blissful cure" -- she must have known what it would do to him? And was the unfamiliar sensation even an orgasm, or was it something else entirely? Despite being uncertain, he scolded himself to be more careful going forward, lest she accuse him of breaking his vow of chastity.

His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the buzz of his iPhone. It was a text message from Lauren:

L: Our deal was that you clean up after the party. It's almost 11 and mom will be here between 2 and 3. I suggest you get on it.

With a regretful sigh, Tom responded:

T: OK, be right there.

He recalled the conversation, rather monologue, as Lauren had told him she was having a Halloween party and it would be his job to clean up. He hadn't even explicitly agreed. But she had threatened to tell his wife Lisa that he had bitten her. Lisa and him were already on the rocks due to another lurid transgression, the reason he was in the guest house to begin with. Lauren revealing his gruesome act might have meant the end. He had no choice then but to acquiesce.

He threw on worn sweatpants and found a long sleeve sweatshirt to cover up the wounds on his arms. Then he walked to the house with his head down, suddenly dejected after the joy of his morning meal.

With a wince, he noticed beer cans and cigarette butts around the lawn furniture on the back patio. A man's torn t-shirt hung over an armrest.

He stepped into the house and was met with the stench of stale alcohol. He looked down and a large pink stain saturated a rug next to an overturned bottle of Boone's Farm, a cheap fruit wine he remembered drinking back in high school.

His eyes adjusted to the dim light of the house, and he noticed a teen sitcom on the TV. He walked around the couch and saw Lauren reclining comfortably as she watched the show. She looked carefree and relaxed.

He observed that his daughter wore only a sports bra and tiny shorts that rode high up her thighs. Her muscular tan legs lay stretched over an Ottoman, ending in shapely bare feet, her white painted toes a vestige of her angel costume the previous night. The spandex of her top was strained by her ample breasts, and a hint of soft cleavage peeked out the top. He noted her washboard abs below, new since the last time he had seen her bare stomach. She had the glow of someone freshly showered and her pretty face was fully made up.

She sighed contentedly and changed a channel, intentionally ignoring him. Guiltily, he felt a stir in his cock. He quickly bent over to retrieve some red Solo cups from the floor and hide his arousal. He suddenly remembered Sophie repeating Lauren's confession:

...she confided in me that she felt something poking her in the back...Lauren insisted it must have been your tiny prick, that you must have been horny for her...

Tom's face flushed as he thought of his hard cock pushing into his daughter's back as she gave him a piggyback ride. She must have come to realize later what it was, he thought to himself. Now she hated him for it -- even more than she hated him for biting her shoulder.

Shamefully, he began walking around the room, picking up dozens of cups, cans and bottles, trying to focus on his task and avoid looking at his hot daughter. He filled a garbage bag and started another, briefly stepping outside to clean up the patio. As he walked back in, Lauren spoke in a haughty tone, her eyes still glued to the television:

"Mom keeps a steam cleaner in the front closet. You have an hour to figure it out and get rid of the stains on the rugs. Also, there's a spray bottle of Febreze in there for the smells. And the powder room is filthy. You better do a good job with everything. If she accuses me of having a party, let's just say you're totally fucked."

"Lauren -" Tom started to say, hoping to appeal to her familial love, but she turned up the volume on her show and drowned him out.

Surprisingly, he felt his cock stiffening again. Lauren's threatening demeanor and crude words had a familiar air about them. It was as if Mistress Sophie had suddenly reappeared. He grew hard at the thought of the vicious persona Sophie had assumed the night before to punish and traumatize him. And, to his shame, at the illicit idea of his daughter doing the same.

Tom abruptly turned away to conceal his hard-on and headed to the powder room. He used paper towels to scrub down all the surfaces and tidied up as fast as he could. Then he walked to the front hall and found the steam cleaner.

He took 10 minutes to read the directions and figure out how to assemble it. Then he found the detergent, added it to the correct chamber, and finally filled the water receptacle.

He got to work cleaning up the sugary wine, then found other spills and did his best to remove their traces. He patted each spot with paper towels, hoping Lisa wouldn't set her bare feet on them before they dried. When he was satisfied, he got the Febreze bottle and walked around spraying wherever he detected a smell. Then he got down on his hands and knees and whiffed at every inch of carpet and upholstery, dousing them liberally with the scent remover.

"At least you give a shit about saving your marriage," Lauren said sarcastically without a glance toward him. "Oh, you should also think about changing the sheets in the master bedroom. I'm pretty sure Gina made some random guy's night up there."

Tom flinched as Gina's name came up. She had tried to rape him again in the guest house last night. His only defense had been to threaten her with Sophie's wrath. To his surprise it had worked.

The idea that she came back to the house and took some unsuspecting high school boy instead, perhaps in spite, made his cock harden again. He truly hated her, but for some reason the image of the hot minx in a Playboy bunny suit roughly banging an eighteen-year-old instead of him made him jealous. And hot.

He quickly turned and ran upstairs to hide his growing erection from Lauren. The bedroom reeked of sex, the quilt was on the floor and the sheets were scattered and disheveled.

He stripped the bed and was relieved there were no stains on the mattress. After spraying more Febreze around, he found a clean set of linens and made the bed up neatly. With a satisfied whiff of the air, he turned to leave, then thought twice and went into the bathroom. Confirming his suspicion, a used condom lay prominently in the trash can.

He pinched it with a Kleenex to pick it up, then dropped it in the toilet and flushed, watching to make sure it went down. He made to leave when he suddenly had an idea.

He stepped into his walk-in closet and pulled out a drawer, found what he was looking for and stuffed it in the pocket of his sweatpants. Then he gathered up the sheets and headed to the basement to start a load of laundry.

When he eventually walked back into the living room, Lauren spoke:

"I'll take care of the laundry from here," she said, then lithely popped to her feet to inspect the room. Her gaze eventually settled on Tom, "This should do. You can go back to the...what the hell is that in your pants?"

She spoke with the fury of a woman accusing her husband of infidelity...or her father of incest. Her eyes narrowed and she glared at him incredulously.

Tom cocked his head, feigning surprise. Then he casually reached into his pocket.

"Oh, this little thing?" he asked, holding up a four-inch-long cylindrical object. "It's the USB VPN I use to log in to the bank intranet. I always keep it with me to make sure it's secure."

He lied through his teeth. It was indeed a VPN. But he had used it three jobs ago until the company retired it in favor of more modern encryption. Its awkward size had always seemed unnecessary, even by the standards of the day.

"Oh," Lauren replied with a confused look. Then her eyes seemed to soften, and her cocky bearing diminished, "That means...um...never mind. Anyway, thanks for cleaning up. I still don't forgive you...but I won't say anything to Mom."

Tom tried not to sigh with relief. His ploy had worked. The stiff object that poked her in the back was now explained!

"Thanks, hon. I am truly sorry about the bite. I really don't know what came over me that day," Tom pleaded, but by the look in Lauren's eyes he knew it was too soon. She was still digesting this new piece of information.

The sound of the garage door opening interrupted the moment, and Tom abruptly spun on his heel to leave. He noticed the steam cleaner still in the room by the patio door. Remembering the piss stain he had left the night before, he grabbed it and ran as fast as he could across the lawn to the guest house.