Trainingware

"O-Mode David," Linda said, and I got the feeling of willingness to let someone make my decisions that I'd been familiar with since I was a little kid. Most parents have a high enough Maturity index that they're licensed to use O-Mode to check their children don't get into bad habits or do things that could hurt them.

"Tell me what you've been doing and thinking while I was out of the room," Linda said. Since I was just in normal O-Mode, I was going to remember everything about this conversation.

"I, uh, started by thinking about how scared I was of more whipping and how sore my behind felt," I answered immediately. "And then I got my erection back and I was really horny, so I tried to rub it against the positioner leg . . ." I began to feel intense embarrassment again, as I realized what I was saying. I'd always been in Deep O-Mode when Linda asked me about my fantasies, so I never remembered the conversations later.

"Uh huh," Linda interrupted. "And did you have any thoughts about your whipping or about me in relation to your whipping?"

"Yes," I said. "I started to get mad about how you were treating me, and I was wondering if I could get you in trouble with your professional society or the AI Council."

I felt a rush of fear as I realized how poor an argument this was that I'd learned my lesson from the whipping I'd had so far! And Linda might be mad at me for planning to get her in trouble!

"Did you have any thoughts of being intimidated?" Linda probed, "Of thinking that you'd better behave yourself or you'll get more whipping?"

"Uh. I felt intimidated," I answered. "Especially right after. But I didn't think about how I should behave."

"Well, I think I can make that connection during this next round. Drop O- Mode. I'm going to start building up the slaps again now. My punishment wand readings show you're much more sensitive again."

"Wait, Linda," I called out as soon as I could talk again out of O- Mode. "This punishment isn't going to work! It's a sham!" If begging didn't work, I'd try to talk my way out of more whipping. If only she wouldn't ignore me!

"Why do you think that, David?" She sounded willing to listen for just a moment, to find out if I had anything worth discussing before she started whipping me again.

"You said one of the reasons you're doing this is so I'll stop fantasizing about you sexually. But whipping me like this won't do that. The pain is ghastly when you're actually doing it, but I got aroused right after it stopped, and I was thinking of you. This isn't going to stop me from thinking about you sexually!" I thought this was a pretty good argument, since it was perfectly true -- right now it was nearly impossible to think of anything BUT Linda and my nudity and my erection and getting whipped, all mixed together.

Linda answered in a lecturing tone I'd always tuned out. "My main reason for whipping you, David, is to increase my authority. You have a set of basic attitudes that isolate you from others and justify your innate selfishness. This has extremely bad effects on your Maturity index. Your attitudes right now place you just this side of criminally delinquent, and that justifies the whippings. Remember that you're going to be getting a series of whippings; there'll be one every day until I'm satisfied. The object is to make you sufficiently intimidated that you'll cooperate in extinguishing inappropriate attitudes. Intimidation is only the first step of course, but it's a necessary one, and this is a very common form of training."

"Well how many whippings am I going to get? When will I be done, according to you?" The position I was in made me feel much too vulnerable to be cross- examining Linda like this, but if I could keep her talking I might have a chance to convince her.

"Your progress is up to you," Linda answered. "If you can apply a little rational thought and realize you have no alternative but to work at those interactive mental exercises I gave you, you'll learn how to extinguish some of these attitudes. But it will be very difficult to extinguish the core attitudes that support your selfishness, since you won't want to give them up. So you need to fear what will happen if you fail to satisfy me. There'll be more to do after that, but I'll be able to depend on you after several weeks to follow directions without any further encouragement, because you'll be too afraid of backsliding and getting whipped again."

"But what about my sexual fantasies about you?" I asked, desperate to drive my point across, "You're not going to change that by doing this to me!"

"Actually, these sessions will extinguish your arousal in this situation," Linda answered. "The punishment wand I'm using is nano- engineered so it can be set to the extremely high pain intensity appropriate for this training option, without any real physical damage. You'll be sore for the rest of the day, but it won't break any blood vessels -- you won't bruise deeply -- and you'll feel normal after about twelve hours. I'll be able to whip you every day for weeks, until you're completely intimidated, and by the end of that time you'll be too concerned about satisfying me that your behavior is acceptable to think of me sexually. Also, a few weeks of whippings are very taxing physically. The pain intensity for this training option is clinically traumatic, meant to override any of your normal desires, and you'll lose your sexual interpretation of the whippings by the end."

"But that -- that's awful!" I was horrified by Linda's description. "You're talking about terrible physical trauma!"

"About the same as abdominal surgery, yes." Linda sounded like she was giving an answer to a classroom. "And you really do have a medical problem, David, although it's psychological rather than physical. It just turns out that physical treatment will work in your case."

"You call whippings like this a treatment?" I was yelling, and I heard Linda say, "No more talking now." Then she started my second whipping series.

I was very sore already, so the warm-up hurt more and didn't make me as insensitive as it had the first time. When I heard the "beep" from the punishment wand again, signaling the real whipping was beginning, I started screaming continuously, a siren screech, punctuated with even louder screams as each new slap landed. I couldn't believe how much it hurt! I was a creature of the moment, even worse than before, and it seemed to go on forever! When it finally stopped, I kept screaming for awhile, and then ended up bawling for several minutes before I was able to draw a full shaky breath. Linda was moving somewhere behind me and I was in constant fear that she'd give me more slaps. When I finally quieted down she came up beside me again, and I cried louder and begged her not to hurt me anymore.

"Are you beginning to feel intimidated now, David?" Linda asked, "Are you motivated to do what I tell you? The length and harshness of the whippings are up to me, you know. Are you going to be good?" She had that teasing note in her voice again!

"Yes, Linda," I answered through my sobs, "I'll do whatever you say from now on, I promise!"

Suddenly Linda brought the wand down on my behind again at full whipping strength, and I screamed. And again, and I hadn't finished my first scream, but I screamed a second time. And again, and now I was screaming continuously, expecting another slap, but it didn't come and I got myself under control after about a minute. Linda waited for this before she spoke again.

"I don't want you to call me by my first name, anymore, David. You can call me 'Ma'am' or 'Ms Fechtenbaum'. Do you think you can remember that?" And suddenly I felt another terrible slap on my behind.

"Yes, Ma'am," I yelled out as soon as I could, before I'd stopped screaming really, so I wasn't very intelligible. "I promise I'll never call you by your first name again."

"Don't yell, David," she said, and I felt another explosive slap, then heard Linda raising her voice to be heard over my screaming. "I want you to be polite and answer me civilly." I sobbed that I would, that I'd do anything she said, but she kept talking.

"And how about those mental exercises I've been asking you to do? Will you work on them tonight?"

"Yes, Ma'am!" Suddenly I felt another slap and I screamed again.

"You're sure you won't forget?"

"No Ma'am! Please! Please!" I was really terrified now, since I didn't know how long this was going to go on, or even what the rules were. I thought Linda was just punishing me to be arbitrary now, because she enjoyed hurting me and making me plead with her. Then I had a fleeting thought that I should stop even thinking of her as Linda so I wouldn't slip when I spoke to her.

"Fine," she said, with that teasing note still in her voice. "See that you don't forget! I want to see good progress by tomorrow!" And she gave me three more explosive slaps. Then while I was still screaming, I felt the positioner sink back down to the floor and constraints around my body snap open. A moment later, through my sobbing, I heard her say, "You can get up and get dressed now, David. Your session time is up."

After a minute of trying to catch my breath, I got up slowly from the positioner. I felt like I was stiff from lying in one position too long, and of course my behind was unbelievably sore. My erection was trying to come up again, and I didn't want . . . Ms Fechtenbaum to see me that way. She'd already left the room but she might come back, so I walked slowly over to my clothes and pulled them on. I felt a little dizzy, but I came back to normal quickly as I dressed. My behind hurt like fire just from making contact with my underpants.

I walked carefully out the door to the main office and started out to the street, but Ms Fechtenbaum called to me before I could get out the door.

"David!" And she paused as I stopped and turned to her, then with a mean smile and a teasing voice that convinced me she was enjoying my humiliation, she said, "You'd better not do anything bad before I see you again tomorrow. I'm sure you wouldn't want me to be annoyed with you when I whip you again!"

The hairs on the back of my neck went up as I felt a chill of fear! When Ms Fechtenbaum looked down at her work again, I fled out the front door.