Jessica's Training
Ladyvet
I knocked on the heavy wooden door. The cold wind blew under my coat and skirt,
chilling me to the bone. I knocked again, harder, more impatiently. When the
door swung open, I brushed past the tall, heavy man to get inside. He closed it
behind me and stood silently, arms folded, gaze cold and unwavering. The look in
his eyes kept me chilled despite the warmth of the room. I extended my hand and
blurted out my name. He stared impassively, ignoring my gesture. I dropped my
hand, fidgeted and blurted
"Dr. Renoir suggested that I come here."
"I've been waiting for you, Jessica" he said coldly. "You're an hour late." The
nerve of him, calling me by my first name! But Renoir said he was the best in
his field.
"I'm sorry. I got lost. It was a long drive and the roads aren't very well
marked this far out." He looked me up and down appraisingly, insolently.
"Renoir sent you because..." He awaited my answer. I stood in the foyer just
inside the door, still dressed in my winter fur with a rude stranger demanding
the most intimate details of my life. I tried to answer but I couldn't get the
words out. I finally turned back to the door and told him I was afraid that
coming was a mistake.
"Perhaps you're right," he said "but I'll decide that for myself! I walked
toward the door. He leaned back against it and shook his head. He towered over
me. I knew I would have to stay until he released me.
"You've already wasted an hour of my time. Let's get on with it." He held out a
file folder with my name on it. He knew why I was here. He wanted to make me say
the words.
"I'm inorgasmic and nymphomaniacal. I want to learn to have orgasms and get my
life under control."
"What you're telling me is that you can't come?" I nodded. "And you'll fuck
anything that walks to try, isn't that right?" My cheeks felt like they were on
fire. I never used that sort of language. The antiseptic, unemotional clinical
terms were easier to deal with.
"You've never been able to come by yourself or with a man?" I shook my head.
"Renner writes that your father caught you masturbating when you were around
fourteen. He made you continue while he beat you with a belt. Tell me about it."
His eyes bored into mine.
"It hurt!" I blurted. "It hurt terribly!"
"I know it hurt. Tell me how it made you feel." I remembered lying on my
stomach, rubbing myself while my father flailed away with the belt and shouted
that he'd make a lady of me or else! It ended with my screaming and gasping into
the pillow; almost suffocating from the strange, overpowering sensation that
suddenly gripped me as the flailing leather reddened and bruised my skin.
"I couldn't catch my breath. I think I may have had an orgasm."
"That's what I thought. You only experienced the sensation that one time?" I
nodded. I'd touched myself again after I got up my nerve. I started to tingle a
bit but it never got any more intense. It was the same on dates while I was in
college. They touched and licked and took me. Nothing happened. It was no
different when my husband and I made love during our short marriage or with the
endless parade of faceless men who sweated and strained on me, filling me with
their sticky passion after my divorce. It was the same when I was alone, driven
to make love to myself for hours with humming vibrators, rubbing my clitoris
until it was raw. My life was a constant unsuccessful attempt to experience
another orgasm. I dreaded not being able to feel more than the bare beginnings
of pleasure for the rest of my life.
He walked past me. I followed him reluctantly through the house to a room in the
lower level furnished like a medieval torture chamber. I hesitated to enter but
I had come this far and wasn't about to give up after years of frustration and
fruitless analysis. He locked the door behind me and held out his hand for my
coat. It was his first civil act. I gave it to him and looked around at the
whips and other implements of torture hanging malevolently on the walls. I
suddenly felt weak in the knees. What if he intended to torture me to death? He
was far too strong to fight off. I looked for some way to escape but there was
none. He took my chin in his hand and smiled, subduing my panic. His tone was
cool and professional.
"I'll accept you as a subject and train you." I wondered at his choice of words
but said nothing. "I demand instant and complete obedience. You'll cooperate
with me completely. You'll address me as 'Master Jason.'" I nodded. He slapped
my cheek! I was so surprised I couldn't even react. He slapped me harder and
drew back his hand to do it again.
"I understand, Master Jason," I acknowledged before he could strike me a third
time. He positioned me between two granite pillars studded with metal rings,
fastened manacles with chains hanging from them to my wrists, then pulled the
loose ends through rings near the tops of the pillars and fastened them to
hooks. My arms were pulled so tightly I was on tiptoes after he removed my
shoes. I struggled futilely.
He smiled at my discomfort. I told him the chains were too tight, that they were
hurting my arms. He slapped my face again, shook his head and admonished "remain
silent unless you're answering a question." He put his hands on my hips and
slowly ran them up my ribs until his palms touched the outer curves of my
breasts. I wanted to demand that he stop and let me go but I bit my lip and kept
still. He nodded in satisfaction.
"Good. You're learning." He left and returned with a long, thin knife. Was he
going to cut my throat? I tugged helplessly at the chains. He pulled the neck of
my cashmere knit dress out, inserted the knife and cut it to the hem. He stepped
behind me, cut the dress away at the back and pushed the soft material up my
arms. The shoulder straps of my bra went next. Rather than unfasten it, he
walked around in front of me again and cut through the band. The black lace fell
away from my breasts. He touched my ribs just below them. I expected him to cup
me but he didn't. He just held his hands there and let warmth radiate outward.
My nipples hardened. He stroked my ribs, just grazing the outer curves of my
breasts. I couldn't help squirming.
"You want me to rub them, don't you?" he asked. I nodded, then quickly
remembered to reply properly. He selected a horsetail whisk from the collection
of whips and straps on the wall and returned to stand so close I felt the heat
from his body. "Very well, enjoy it." He drew the rough hair across my nipples
and the undersides of my breasts then backed away and swatted my chest. There
wasn't much of a sensation at first but after several strokes my breasts began
to burn. My nipples got so hard they ached. He dropped the whisk at my feet and
rubbed my sides and stomach again. I trembled as his fingers slid over my
sweat-slick skin, always avoiding my aching breasts. He felt the crotch of my
panties and smiled with satisfaction at my wetness. He slid them down to my
ankles, leaving me naked and defenseless and ordered me to spread my legs. I
managed to get my ankles a foot or so apart. The tips of my toes barely touched
the floor. My wrists throbbed from the added strain. He used the whisk on my
inner thighs until they burned like my breasts.
"That's all for today," he announced as soon I began to pant. "Come back a week
from today and be punctual." He freed my wrists. I dropped my aching arms to my
sides, letting the remnants of my dress fall to the floor. I bent to pull up my
panties but he ordered me to leave them on the floor. I followed him out of the
chamber, wishing that I didn't have to leave. He held the front door open for
me. I started down the stairs.
"Don't wear underwear when you come back." he called out "and don't have sex or
masturbate." The ride home seemed to take forever. My hands and feet were cold
but my body was hot and sweaty despite my nakedness under my coat.
I hardly managed to get my door closed behind me before I started touching
myself. I lay on the floor with my coat still on and rubbed my breasts and clit
and fingered myself until I was raw but it did no good. All I got was wetter and
sorer.
The days dragged until it was time for my next appointment, for which I was
careful to be prompt. I took off my dress as soon as he closed the chamber door
so he wouldn't cut it off. He looked appraisingly at my body, studying its
curves and planes. "You followed my instructions about underwear. Did you
abstain from sexual stimulation?" I lied that I had but he knew otherwise. How
could he have expected me not to touch myself after he had aroused me so much?
He led me to one of the pillars, pressed me against it, ordered me to hug it and
cuffed my wrists together. It was so large my arms barely circled it. The stone
was cold and extremely rough. He forced my feet apart with his boot. I tried to
look at him over my shoulder but he ordered me to put my forehead against the
stone. He lifted my hair off my back, twisted it into a thick rope and pushed it
into my mouth. With my hair out of the way, he flailed my shoulder blades with a
crop until it felt like he was flaying me. I pressed against the pillar and bit
down on my hair to keep from screaming.
He whipped my buttocks next, criss-crossing it with dozens of welts. The pain
reached a point after which I also felt excitement. He stopped whipping me,
pulled my hair free and asked me if I wanted to reconsider my answer about
obedience. I admitted that I had masturbated.
"You're disobedient, dishonest and undisciplined. You agreed to obey my rules
and you didn't even do it for a week." He rubbed my burning buttocks until I
couldn't keep still. "You're a bitch in heat who won't accept rules. I can't
train you to come if you won't cooperate. Unfortunately for you, you've tried
everything else and I'm your last resort!"
"Yes, Master Jason, I need your help," I agreed.
"I'll give you another chance but this time it isn't going to be as easy. I'm
going to discipline you severely." He pulled a leather helmet over my head and
strapped it tightly around my neck. It covered me all the way down to my collar
bones. There were no eye, ear or mouth openings; only a pair of small holes
under the nose. He freed me from the pillar, laid me on my back on a wide wooden
bench and fastened my wrists and ankles to it, leaving me completely open and
vulnerable. He touched my breasts for the first time, rubbing and molding them
until I was on fire. He probed between my legs, forcing first two, then three
fingers into me and pinched my nipples with his other hand. I moved on his
fingers. My whole universe consisted only of his hands and my needs. He stopped
touching me and wiped his hand on my stomach. I thought he was going to enter me
but he flogged me with a thin whip instead, methodically and slowly working his
way up from my ankles to my neck, leaving no area unmarked except my breasts and
crotch. I moved around as much as I could when the whip fell near them but he
denied me the contact. He patted my engorged labia and asked if I wanted
something there.
"Yes, Master Jason," I moaned into the tight leather. I didn't care whether it
was him, his hand, the whip handle or something else. I'd never been so close to
what I thought an orgasm might feel like. My entire body tingled. The sensation
was incredibly intense in my nipples and clit.
"I don't think you're ready yet," he said. "I'll return later." He freed my
right wrist and slammed the door. I tried to remove the suffocating helmet but
it was locked at the back of my neck. I lay there desperately gripping the side
of the bench as long as I could, fighting to keep my hand away from my body. I
finally couldn't stand it and touched myself. He seized my wrist! I should have
known that he'd stay to watch me!
"You say you want me to train you to come and you either refuse to cooperate or
are incapable of it. In either case, I accepted you as a subject and I'll
complete your training!" He freed me, rolled me onto my stomach and restrained
me spread eagle again. His heavy weight crushed me as he lay on top of me and
forced himself slowly into my tight, protesting anus! I'd never tried sex that
way before because I feared the pain. He was so thick I was afraid he would tear
me apart but I gradually found pleasure despite the discomfort and humiliation.
I began to match his rhythm. He slapped the back of my head so hard that sparks
danced before my eyes. "I didn't give you permission to fuck me," he snarled.
"This is for me, not you!" He placed the heels of his hands on my shoulder
blades and put his weight on them, crushing my breasts against the bench, pumped
several times then lunged against me. It felt as though his cock was forcing
itself right through my body. He withdrew as soon as he came, leaving me open
and empty. He removed the leather helmet, freed my wrists and ankles and
restrained me between the pillars.
He fastened a heavy, ice cold chain tightly around my waist and drew another one
suspended from it between my legs. It was divided where it was attached to the
waist chain at the back and joined between my anus and vagina into a single,
thicker chain, the links of which were covered with short, sharp protrusions. He
separated me, pulled it into my cleft and arranged it so that it pressed against
my clit. It hurt terribly! It felt like it was cutting me in dozens of places. I
screamed and struggled to raise my hips to escape it. He pulled it tighter. He
attached it to the front of the waist chain with a heavy lock. The sharp metal
dug into me, forcing itself into my tender flesh, biting into my labia and clit.
I started to cry in pain and humiliation. He freed my hands and watched
impassively while I tried to pull the crotch chain out. It wouldn't budge. The
waist chain was so tight it dug into the tops of my hips. I pleaded desperately
with him to remove it. He ignored my groveling and rubbed my breasts, smiling
broadly when my nipples responded.
"You should thank me for putting the chastity on you," he sneered. "Now you'll
be able to obey my instructions and leave yourself alone. Get dressed and get
out of here." I asked when I could return. He responded that I'd know when and
left me to find my way out. I had a terrible time dressing and walking to my
car. Every movement brought new flashes of pain. I sat gingerly in the car and
drove slowly until I felt wetness under me. I stopped, pulled my dress up,
touched myself and looked at my fingers under the map light. They were slimy
with my blood and lubricant. The only thing I had to wipe myself with was a
white silk scarf. I cleaned my hand, then spread myself and swabbed my tortured,
bulging labia gently, luxuriating in the soothing softness of the cloth and the
subtle feeling of pleasure it brought forth. The sharp chain caught and tore the
scarf but I kept on, enjoying the sudden tingling sensation. I pressed harder. A
link cut my finger. I sucked the sticky mixture of my liquids from it. An
incredibly strong sensation started in my pelvis and lower stomach, then surged
into my upper thighs and breasts. I gasped for breath! It flowed through me like
white-hot lava. The chain felt like it was on fire! I pressed my fingertips
against it, ignoring the cuts, forcing it still deeper into me until the
sensation crested and plateaued. I had to return immediately, even if he killed
me.
He was waiting for me. I led him back to the dungeon, undressed, leaned back
against a pillar with my legs spread and rubbed my breasts defiantly, daring
him, forcing him to punish me. He turned me around, chained my hands above my
head, took a heavy strap from the wall and smashed it against my back. I spread
my legs and jammed myself against the cold, rough stone, scraping my nipples and
inner thighs on its unfeeling hardness. He slammed the strap against me again.
Flames licked at my insides. I ground the chain and lacerated, swollen place
from which it emerged against the unyielding pillar. Hot wetness trickled down
my thighs. The third blow almost triggered an orgasm. I screamed and hunched
myself against the pillar until I was too exhausted to move.
He left me hanging helplessly by my wrists for what seemed like an eternity with
the chain still embedded in me, forcing itself deeper with each small movement
of my hips. I lost track of everything but my desire. I suddenly became aware of
his hands on my breasts, squeezing them, tugging my chafed nipples until they
swelled and stiffened. The lower part of the pillar was smeared with blood where
I had rubbed against it. He abandoned my tingling breasts and slid his hands
slowly down my ribs and stomach until his fingers rested on the place where the
chain touched my clit. "Do you want something?" he asked. "Tell me what it is."
"I want you to fuck me!" I panted. I was so breathless I could hardly form the
words. I pushed back against his hardness and begged him to take off the
chastity and give me what I needed.
"No, I'm not going to fuck you, Jessica" he replied. "You're still defiant and
disobedient. You haven't earned the right to be fucked!" I started to shake and
cry in anger and frustration.
He wet himself on my inner thighs, then pressed his hardness against my anus. I
relaxed my muscles and pushed myself down on him a little at a time until he was
completely inside me, stretching me, filling me with incredible heat. It hurt
less this time because I didn't fight it. He crushed me against the pillar,
squeezed my breasts and moved them against it, scraping my nipples raw on the
cold stone. I moved on him, slowly at first, then more frantically, relishing
the spear of flesh stabbing at my bowels. He wrapped both hands around the waist
chain and pulled it up, jamming the bristling links further into me. The pain
seared me, permeating my entire body, then suddenly receded, displaced by a
seething flood of incredible excitement and pleasure. Tears of joy flooded my
eyes despite the biting metal and the blood coursing down my inner thighs.
"This one is for me, isn't it," I asked, then I screamed as my body responded to
his, gripping him, milking him, ascending to the stars on a tidal wave of agony
and ecstasy.
Master Jason removed the chain, cleaned me up and carried me to a guestroom. I
woke up around noon to find him standing over me. He smiled, pulled down the
sheet and asked if I'd slept well. My nipples swelled from his nearness and the
memory of the previous night. My lacerated labia and clit were swollen and sore
but my need for him was even more painful. I wanted him so badly I felt dizzy. I
was certain that I'd come again if only he'd make love to me. I stretched,
smiled seductively and sat up.
"I slept wonderfully," I said. "I feel absolutely great!" I spread my knees and
smoothed the hair at the back of my neck with both hands to raise and accentuate
my breasts. He ignored my invitation.
"Then I'll start the next phase of your training." He opened the nightstand
drawer, removed a metal tray containing disinfectant, a thick needle, two pairs
of heavy rings hinged at their sides to form joined "C"s and a small lock. "You
don't have enough willpower to complete your training without assistance. I'm
going pierce your nipples and put the smaller rings in them to act as a constant
reminder to obey, then I'm going to infibulate you with larger rings and close
you with this lock. I'll cut the rings when I want to remove them. I'll keep the
key to the lock. I may remove it from time to time, depending on how cooperative
you are and how well your training progresses. You are forbidden to stimulate
yourself or to allow anyone touch you. Do you have any questions?"
I answered "no, Master," lay back and closed my eyes. He'd been right about what
I needed thus far. I'd willingly endure whatever he commanded me to. He rubbed
my already hard left nipple until it was fully erect, stretched it out and
pushed the needle through it's base. The pain was less intense than I feared it
would be. He put a ring against the head of the needle, forced it through the
piercing and snapped it shut. My flesh swelled around it, embracing it, silently
acknowledging that it was now part of me. I watched while he did the right side.
The needle was almost like a cock sinking into me until it suddenly emerged,
hard, sharp, tinged pink with my blood. I stared at the nipple rings while he
continued his work, hardly feeling the needle when he pierced my labia. I felt
the weight of the rings very plainly, though.
"I'll call you to schedule your next appointment," he said, locked my labial
rings together and tugged on them. "Keep a daily diary of your thoughts and
feelings, beginning today. E-mail an entry each day. Make it as detailed as
possible. Don't call me or come back until I contact you."
Pages from my diary
**********************************
First day: The drive home was terrible. I ached and throbbed but the pain of the
piercings was easier to bear than my thwarted desire. I'm certain that I could
have come if only You had made love to me before closing me.
**********************************
Twelfth day: I dreamed about You again last night. I hated it when the alarm
dragged me back to reality and the sensation of Your touch ebbed away. I tried
to cling to the dream but it dissipated, leaving me incredibly aroused. My
nipples ached to be sucked and massaged. I rolled onto my stomach and rubbed my
breasts against the mattress. The pressure only intensified the tingling. I
moved them back and forth and massaged my stomach and sweaty ribs with my
fingers, stopping just short of my breasts, then I caressed the smooth, slick
skin of my inner thighs. The temptation to rub my puffy labia was almost too
strong to resist. The lock and rings pinched me, relentlessly reminding me of
their presence and my thwarted desire. You knew exactly what You were doing!
There's no way I could let a man even see me with the rings and lock hanging
from me, let alone touch me. Besides, what man would want to? How could I face
anyone if the secret of my incredible predicament were exposed? The torturing
metal would keep me from making love to a man but it couldn't keep me from
rubbing my distended clit or slipping a finger inside myself to massage the
swollen place above my urethra if I dared to disobey You. The need to try to
make myself come was overwhelming but I'm afraid to give in to it. That's the
most exquisite torture of all! You'd somehow know if I masturbated and punish me
by depriving me of the pleasure/pain I crave so desperately. I touched the
slippery rings and lock with my fingertips. They were hot from the fire burning
under them. I knew if I didn't stop then, I wouldn't be able to!
I forced my hands away and gripped the headboard until my excitement faded
enough so I could get out of bed. My reflection in the full-length bathroom
mirror reminded me of a sex-starved cat in heat. My dark, knotted nipples
jutted, holding the rings out, mocking me with their constant tingling. I sat on
the floor in front of the mirror, leaned back, spread my legs and examined for
the hundredth time the metal embedded in me like a bizarre parasite. I parted my
labia above the rings, pulling the slippery skin shiny tight. My distended
purple clit protruded from its sheath like an insolent little cock. I longed to
touch it or even better, to feel Your tongue against it. I held myself open
under the shower and let the frigid water cascade over me until the cold banked
the raging inferno of my desire and shrank the little bundle of raw, jangling
nerves. I dried myself and put on the bulky, uncomfortable pad I wear even
though I'm not having my period. I need it to absorb the wetness seeping in
readiness for a cock You might never allow me to enjoy.
**********************************
Thirtieth day: Today was particularly frustrating. Male coworkers hovered around
me like a pack of dogs pursuing a bitch in heat. They seem to sense my arousal
though I do my best to hide it. The rings keep my nipples so prominent they're
visible under my bra. Maybe the men can somehow smell my need although I shower
twice a day. I've been to bed with most of them at least once in the past. They
can't understand why I'm not receptive now. Their nearness and attention drive
me to distraction. What would they think if they knew I'm mentally undressing
and making love to them while I'm brushing them off? To make matters worse,
Frank Bishop called to tell me he's in town for a couple of days. We slept
together whenever he could steal some time. I've come closer to having a climax
with him than with any of the others. I hoped I'd experience my first one with
him. It almost killed me to tell him I couldn't see him this time.
I rushed home to wait hopefully for Your call and spent the evening staring at
the mockingly silent phone, tortured by memories of Frank's hard body, strong
hands and skillful tongue. I could almost feel the weight of his body on mine
and taste his salty sweat as I mentally licked his small, copper nipples. I
violated Your prohibition and guiltily rubbed mine through my blouse. They
hardened, holding out the rings, daring me to continue. I imagined that Frank's
teeth were stretching my nipples. It was more than I could bear! I leaned back,
spread my legs wide and rubbed myself through my slacks and the soggy pad. The
lock dug into my labia but it still felt so good I couldn't stop. I unbuttoned
my waistband. God! I was so close! I closed my eyes, slipped my fingers inside
my slacks and touched the hard little tip of my clit. Damn You! I was afraid let
myself continue! I gripped the arms of the chair and struggled to put Frank out
of my mind. My hips jerked uncontrollably for a long time before I managed catch
my breath and relax.
I showered away my sweet, musky scent then lay awake, tortured by the acute
longing in every fiber of my body. My distended nipples poked insistently
against the sheet. Wetness seeped out over my anus to dampen the sheet under me.
I pressed my hands against my pubis and fought to control them until I could
fall asleep.
I woke up from an intensely erotic dream with my nightgown up around my waist
and fingers pressed to my swollen labia. I had been masturbating in my sleep. I
looked at the slick secretion on my fingers then I raised them to my nose and
inhaled the heady, musky scent of my excitement. My labia were so
passion-swollen that the rings pinched me. I removed the sodden pad, wiped
myself with a wad of tissues, got up and walked around to cool off and figure
out how to restrain my hands to keep it from happening again. I looped a terry
cloth bathrobe belt around a spindle in the headboard, tied it tightly around my
wrists and slid down until my hands were over my head. It worked. I couldn't
touch myself but it had an unfortunate side effect; it brought back vivid
memories of You. I was suddenly back in the chamber, hanging by my wrists, ready
to experience the incredible ecstasy of an orgasm.
I spent the night on my stomach, squirming against the unfeeling mattress with a
pillow clenched between my knees, weeping with longing and frustration. My rings
felt like they were getting thicker as the tissue around them engorged. I've
come to think of them as mine because they're so much a part of me although it
is more like I belong to them since they control me. I've even come to like the
way they look, the way their hardness emphasizes the softness of my labia. I'll
ask You to leave them in but I can't wait to get rid of the damned lock!
The satin sheet grew wet from my oozing lubricant. I buried my face in the
pillow and howled in misery as I've heard cats in heat do when their frustration
becomes unbearable. The calendar says only thirty days have passed since we were
together but that can't be right. I've already waited an eternity.
**********************************
Federal Express delivered a package the morning after I sent the last message.
It contained the key to my lock and a note: "Come to my home at ten o'clock
tonight. Remove your lock and clothing before you leave your car. The door will
be unlocked. Enter and go directly to the chamber. Put on the leather helmet and
fasten it." My heart raced. Perhaps my training would end tonight. Perhaps it
wouldn't. In either case, I knew I would finally experience what I longed for.
