Back to the Training School – Part II

i write for a long time, sitting at the desk, hand-writing all my feelings about my experiences at The Training School,.  i describe the neediness that comes with the arousal, talk about how hot it makes me, how wet, and how much i long to serve.  i write for a long time.

Then i am finished, and i close the notebook, put the pen neatly to one side.  i fold my hands on my desk – and look at my nipples, as Professor C had instructed me to do.  They are barely protruding.  Certainly not the degree of erect arousal that he would want. 

Feeling guilty, i brush my thumbs over them.  Usually, we are forbidden to touch ourselves in any way that might feel sexual.  i am a little worried that if one of the Doms in Training, or another Professor, were to see me, that i would be in immediate trouble.  In that case, punishment might descend quickly and explanations would have to wait for later.

Fortunately, my nipples begin to rise quickly.  i make sure they’re hard – tender and tingling – before i fold my hands on the desk again.   Of course, all this touching makes my pussy throb.  It’s not quite as arousing as if Professor C were doing it, but that direct connection that runs from nipple to pussy is still working. 

i squirm a little.  i know i’m supposed to be thinking about my nipples, but it’s difficult to focus when shivers are running through me, my pussy’s clenching, and i’m aching to be touched.  Or even touch myself.  

i’m usually good about not touching – i know i belong to Them right now, and that someday soon, i’ll have a Master and my body will belong to Him.  And you know, i want to be  a good girl anyhow… but now

i have to part my legs a little bit more – my knees aren’t exactly pressed together like some old-school “lady,” but i think if i pressed them together a little harder, i might cum.   And then i’d have to confess that i’d cum without permission.  And that would lead to – 

– well, it’s only happened to me once, thank goodness.  But the tortures of orgasm denial around that kind of infraction – o, my.  i thought i would lose my mind.  i had to wear a braided red collar, and a matching red belt, to signal the Doms in Training and the Professors to touch me, arouse me, and make sure i didn’t cum.

Well, you can imagine what that was like!  Whew.  It lasted for 24 hours, and at the end of it, when i was ready to cry with longing and frustration, they set up a training session for one of the Doms  with the Hitachi and me.

O, my – you can’t possible imagine what a relief that was!  One of the Professors – Professor C, actually – was supervising at first to make sure the Dom could readily make me cum.   Thank goodness, he could, and did, for a long time.

i glance at my nipples.  They’re still fairly hard, i guess these memories are helping.  i tweak them a little bit, just to make sure they stay perky, and remember that the Professor told me to think about my nipples.  Mentally, i nod, “yes, sir,” and begin to think about them.

Nipples and nipple clamps – yikes.  They have not used nipple clamps on me much, and i’m glad.  Although, i suppose that could change at any moment.  That thought makes my pussy throb and i feel the hot moistness clenching, as if seeking – seeking something.  Wanting to wrap itself – herself? around something.

And what makes me throb and clench and shiver, sitting here all alone in this room at a desk, is knowing that it will be however they want it to be.  Pleasure, pain, or some combination, it’s their choice.  i’ve given them that power, and even though i could take it back at any time and walk out, i wouldn’t even consider doing that.

When i walk out, it will be with someone who wants me.  Someone who finds me pleasing.  i’m picturing that – wondering who He’ll be, what that will be like, when –

Professor C comes back into the room. Quickly –

i glance down at my nipples – yes!  They are still hard, although –

         – moments later, when he has taken hold of them, and is lightly pinching them, they get much harder very quickly –

and my pussy throbs and pulsates, and  i whimper and squirm

                                     and he laughs.

“Good girl,” he says, with an easy smile, and i feel myself warmed all through.

He sits back down and picks up my notebook.  i squirm in a different way as he reads it, hoping he likes it, hoping he’s pleased.  Several times, he looks up at me and smiles, which is a relief, and my heart dances with joy. 

When he’s finished, he says, “Tell me more about how you knew you wanted this.  When was the first time you knew you wanted to submit?”  So i tell him, and he listens closely, commenting from time to time.

When i’ve finished, he nods, and talks a little bit about what i’ve said.  He praises me for having the courage to take this step, and assures me that they’ll find a good Master for me – and adds,  with a grin, “Well, “good” being a relative term.  Someone who wants a slave like you and knows how to provide the proper discipline to get the most out of you.”

Again, a deep thrill runs through me.  Yes, that is exactly what i want.

“And,” he goes on, “That’s the point of the party you’ll be going to.”  He pauses to pinch my nipples again, and my attention shifts to my body so quickly, it is such an intense feeling,  i moan. 

He laughs.

“There are different roles that our students fill at the party,” he goes on.  He’s released my nipples, so i’m able to focus on his words.  Different roles?  i don’t ask it aloud, but he says, “For example, there are greeters – two, usually.  Their job is to welcome the guests.”

He doesn’t really have to say more, i’m pretty sure i know what that means, but he explains anyhow – “As the men arrive, the greeters take their coats in the winter, bow in welcome of course.  Then they kneel and offer their mouths – the guest may simply allow the greeter to kiss his cock through his clothes, or he may indicate that she can open his clothes to take him in her mouth more fully.  She’s not usually expected to engage in lengthy cock worship at that time since other guest are arriving to be greeted.  But she does try to make sure his evening gets off to a good start.

“Then she leads him to a seat, takes a drink order, and turns that in at the bar.  Someone else will take the drink to him.”

i am listening, fascinated, i can picture it just as he describes it.

“That’s just one of the roles, of course,” he says, “And,” looking at his watch, “I don’t have time to tell you more today.  I have been assigned to walk you through this though, I’ll be your guide, so we’ll be talking again.”

“Thank you, Sir,” i say, smiling happily.  “That’ll be – o, that’ll be helpful, i know.”  Professor C is one of my favorite teachers anyhow, a very wise man.    Now –

“Come here,” he says, gesturing for me to stand in front of him.  

Quickly, i move, position myself where he wants me.  i remember to stand straight, shoulders back a little, so my breasts are offered.  He caresses the nipples again, then takes one into his mouth.  The heat of his mouth is so intense, so soothing and so arousing and –

i moan and move closer to him.  His tongue – his mouth – the heat – ahhhhhh, o my – and then he switches sides and my first nipple is tingling from the cool air, and the other nipple is being teased with his tongue and ohhhhhhhhhh

                 i think i will die with pleasure.  And then – just as it is almost too much – his hand slips between my legs –

touches my incredibly hot, aching pussy.  i press against him, i can’t help it, like a cat in heat, i must rub against him.  i whimper, a plead in the sound and he says –  

“What?  What do you want?”

“O – touch me, yes, please touch me, o, yes, um, your fingers, your fingers inside me, yes, sir, please, please may i cum?” and i’m almost there when of course he stops – of course –

and i think i will die –

and i moan – but i stifle the complaint and i don’t say, “Noooooo!  Don’t stop!”  instead i say,”O, Sir, please, please Sir,” 

and he says, laughing, “What about me?  Don’t you want to take care of me?” 

That actually makes me pause – it doesn’t make me want to cum any less, and his thumb is resting on my clit, and his fingers are inside me, even though he’s not moving, he’s just holding me there on the edge – but now i’m thinking about him, and wondering if he wants my mouth or my pussy or –

– i guess he could even want my ass, which they have not taken yet.  But i discover that i do want to please him, as much as i want to cum, i want to please him.  So i say, “O, Sir, of course i want to take care of you.  May i, please? “

He looks at me for a long moment, looks deep into me, and then he releases me, removes his hand, his fingers.  i feel my pussy clench wildly, silently pleading for him to come back, but i ignore her, watching him.  “Yes,” he says.  “Yes, you may please me.  But first, three licks for not thinking of it first.  Here, over my knee… open your skirt in back all the way, please.”

******************************************************************

Whew, that was fun!

Five more days, just five more days til i see my Sir again.  (Ok, six if I count today, but I don’t think today should count cause it already is today, right?)

Merry Christmas, Everyone. 

Hope you have a wonderful day (whether you’re celebrating Christmas or not!)

 

 

 

Not Ordinary

 “To think of him in the middle of the day lifts me out of ordinary living.”
— Anaïs Nin (The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 1)

i am at lunch, eating in my office today, trying to catch up on paperwork.   Suddenly, i remember the feel of His hand on my nipple.  The left nipple, crushed between His thumb and forefinger.  Instantly, the memory tugs on the line that runs directly from my nipple to my pussy, and i feel heat between my legs.

i’m lying on the bed, on my stomach, stinging blows from the famous yardstick landing on my ass.  He’s careful to strike the “sit spot” more than once. 

Shifting from memory into fantasy, i’m on the spanking bench in His dungeon. 

Remember the spanking bench?

 Blindfolded again.  Ass raised a little, exposed and vulnerable.  “What is this?” He asks; i hear something whistle slightly, it lands with a sharp sting.  “O!”

“i don’t know,” i say, “i don’t know that one!”

“Yes, you do,” He says.   “Here, let’s try it again,” and He does – “O!” but-

“i don’t!  i don’t know that one.”

“Ok.  It’s the quirt,” He says.  “Quirt.  Say it.” 

And i do, even though the word doesn’t want to leave my lips, i say it.  “Quirt.”

and He says, “Good.  How many?”

“i don’t know!”  

He rubs my ass, caresses it, “Breathe,” He says, “Uh huh, that’s it, good girl.  Breathe.”  And when my breathing has calmed, He says, “Ok.  Now.”  Patiently,  “How many do you think it’ll take for you to be able to recognize the quirt next time?”

A huge wave of pleasure runs through me, sitting there in my office, in front of my computer.   Am i going to have to – you know, take care of myself?  Right here?

Back on the spanking bench –

“Five,” i say, reluctantly.  “Five, Sir, please.”

And He is still stroking my ass, and then He isn’t and – “Oh!!  One.  The Quirt, Sir,” i say.   Five times i feel the sting and say it,

“Two.  The Quirt, Sir.”  

“Three.  The Quirt, Sir.”

i’m getting wetter, squirming in my chair.  Fast forwarding the fantasy a little. 

“Good girl.”  He says.  “Do you think you’ll recognize the quirt next time I ask you?” 

“Yes, sir, i’m sure i will,” i say.  my ass is hot, i can feel the heat, and my pussy is soooo wet and hot.  The spanking bench is wet with my juices, i want to rub against it.   Press my clit against it til i cum.

“Do you want the Hitachi now?” He asks.  “Or should we try one more recognition task?”

i smile a little, “Well, of course i want the Hitachi, Sir,” i say.  “But if it would please You to try another one, then of course i want to do that.”

“Good girl,” He says.   Another shiver runs through me.  “Let me think.  Let’s -”

My phone rings.  What?  Someone at the front desk, the receptionist not sure what to tell them, can i come up there?  Sure, yes, sure, on my way…

And i park the fantasy, not sure what He’s going to decide.  Is the Hitachi waiting for me, or the paddle?  Only time will tell…

************************************************************

Yes, this is similar to nilla’s post the other day, with my own twists.  i was amazed that she’d given words to a scenario very similar to a fantasy of my own – one i’d had since long before i even knew what anything other than a hand  felt like on my ass.   More of what Mick calls Smut-ergy.

As you can see, i’m apparently over my subdrop.  Sir D was very sweet yesterday, i got a text message while i was still at work, an e-mail when i got home, and then we talked last night.  i also have adventures to look forward to.  Have i mentioned that my Sir is very sweet?  <smiles>

And i just realized – having gotten myself all stirred up writing this post – that if i’m going to see Him on Saturday, then today is two days before Saturday.  Just last weekend,  i agreed that two days is not too long to go without an orgasm before i see Him.   What was i thinking?  That was a lot easier to say when i’d just had a multitude of orgasms.

Thank goodness, i took care of myself last night. 

 

How To Use a Yardstick (Part I)

My body has been saturated with pleasure; touched and stroked, twisted and pulled, carried away in waves of orgasms.   The taste of His cock, the feel of Him still in my mouth reminds me of those pleasures too.    

He was pleased with the yardstick.  i present it to Him, on my knees of course, and He is pleased.

Which pleases me, and makes me hot.  As if i’m not already hot enough  – already wet and needy, panties soaked, pussy swollen.   i can’t seem to keep my hips from moving in little circles.    He notices.

“You’re not trying to rub yourself, are you?” He asks, looking slightly appalled.

“Um, no, well, maybe,” i say, too hot and over-eager to even be embarrassed.

“Well, don’t!”  He says, “NO.”

“O, ok – yes, Sir.”

And i don’t, though i’m about ready to start rubbing against the furniture, but i don’t.  And He calms me, makes me breath, “Back it down,” He says, and i do, but o, i’m just simmering, right there on the edge of boil.

i pleasure Him first.  Undress Him, which feeds my submissive heart, makes me  feel like a harem girl, only the veils are missing.  Serving feels good.

And then, yes, my mouth on His cock, doing what i love to do.  Getting more aroused by the kneeling, Him filling my mouth, His hands in my hair directing.  Giving Him the control, bringing Him pleasure…  it makes me hot writing about it.   i’ll be sitting in a puddle soon.   

And only then, when His need has been satisfied, does He turn His attention to me.  He tortures my nipples with one hand.  Pulling and twisting til i’m whimpering, doing hip circles again, i can’t help it. 

The yardstick – remember the yardstick?  It had come to the bedroom with us.   He picks it up.

i bite my lip.

“Open your legs,” He says.  i gasp.  He says, with a smile, “Hadn’t thought of that, had you?”  i shake my head, no.

“Open, come on,” He says again, and of course i do.

The yardstick stings – well of course it does.  i knew it would, but i hadn’t imagined it stinging my poor swollen pussy.  Yikes.  i squirm and whimper, but i keep my legs open wide.

He stops for a minute, goes to his bag of tools.  Emerges with a crop.  And the Hitachi.  Oooh. 

“Pleasure.  Pain.”  He says, looking from one hand to the other.  i nod, eyes wide, legs still open.  “Or -” He pauses, reverses the order, “Pain.  Pleasure.”  Shrugs, “We’ll see.”

Mmmmpf, this is going to be interesting.

He starts with the crop.  Touches, caresses with the leather tip, ahhh, nice, and – whoosh.  whoosh, again and again.  O, it is pain, but not more than i can take.  Just as it starts to maybe be too much, the Hitachi roars into life.  O, yes!

“Just remember,” He says, “You need permission to cum.  Don’t cum without asking me.  Clear?”

i nod, yesss, of course, i know, o, please the Hitachi, Sir, please?  But i don’t say it.

And then He does, and i’m grinding against it, o, yes, yes, yes, yes – and then it’s gone and the crop is back, and o, maybe that’s yes too.  Raising my hips – o, o – and the Hitachi – o – and the crop – and then both – omigod – omigod – and

“You’re not cumming, are you?”  He says.

“O!  Yes – no – i mean…” 

“Did you forget?”  The rhythm of the crop gets a little faster, a little harder.

“O – yes, almost – O – can i??  May i cum, please?” Desperate, i don’t know what i’ll do if He says no.

But He smiles, indulgent, “Yes, you may.”

And i do, o, i do,  quickly finding that space that takes me up – up – and over the top – ahhh – tumbling down – and back up – yes, again – as the Hitachi does its thing between my legs – o, yes.  Mmmmm.  Mmmmm.

Life is soooo good.

(to be continued)