Training Carrie for my bitch

I poured a glass of cold water, then put a pillow under head and slowly fed her the water. After half a glass, she indicated that was enough, so I finished the glass. I asked her if she really wanted to sleep down here tonight, wouldn’t she prefer the comfortable bed upstairs? She said she really wanted to spend a night in her Slave bed, but it was Ok with her if I left her there and went upstairs for the night. I told her that would never happen. Where she was, I was.

I told her that it was a mistake to put her in the machine, that she would never be subjected to that again. She told me not to say never, that there might come a day when both of us would want to see her in the machine again. I asked her what could possibly make that happen. She said she didn’t know, but neither of us could rule it out. I didn’t understand where she was coming from, but it seemed like she wanted the machine to remain available, so I decided to just forget about it and ignore it.

I asked her if she would like to sit up and share a glass of wine with me, and she said that would be very nice. I let her keep the blanket over her body, with just her arms and head uncovered. I poured the wine and offered her the first sip. I asked her how she could let herself be subjected to that machine, that if I already knew what it felt like, I was sure I wouldn’t go in it again without being forced to. She said she didn’t want to sound too dramatic, but that she would go through fire for me, only she would ask first if they couldn’t make it hotter. I told her that was noble, but not very smart. I said that there was no doubt her Master would cause her pain at times, sometimes for a reason, and sometimes accidentally or out of stupidity. But her Master would never cause her pain on purpose for no reason, and would never ever do anything to her that he thought would harm her. I told her that I was feeling a lot of guilt for asking her to endure the severe shock in the machine, because it might well have harmed her, and because there wasn’t a good reason to do it. I told her I was sorry I did it, and I would try my best not to do anything that foolish again.

“Master, your Slave had a reason for enduring the shock. I did it for you. I did it, not to prove my love, Master must by now accept that I love him without needing proof, but to demonstrate my love. I feel a constant need, a drive, to demonstrate a love that I feel so strongly. That is also a partial explanation for my insatiable sexual appetite, that and the fact that I have discovered the most fun thing in the universe in my late twenties, and I’m trying to make up for lost time with the one person in the world I value above all other things. The Slave thanks her Master for allowing the trials to go on long enough for the Slave to make that demonstration of love.”

We were both quiet for awhile after that. She had said her piece, and I didn’t know how to express my reaction to it. Finally she asked me what was on the agenda for tomorrow. I said that after breakfast she would have another workout on the elliptical trainer. Then I asked her if she remembered her last night in the organization’s training room, where she modeled some of the harnesses and other slave wear? She said she did, and I asked if she had equipped this training room with stuff like that. She said that there were only two drawers full of that type of equipment. I said that I refused to be surprised any more by the planning she put into this room, and that after exercise she would put on a little Slave fashion show for me.

She asked if we would go on another walk after lunch. I told her I had a tentative plan that involved she and I, fully clothed, strolling down the driveway, introducing me to Philip’s wife, and having a friendly visit. We would of course clear it with Philip first, and invite him along on the walk if he wished to come. She said that would be wonderful, that she hadn’t seen Beverly for several weeks, that Beverly and Philip were essentially Carrie’s parents when she was a child, because her real parents were away so much. I told her that if we did this, it would be important not to offend Beverly by talking in details about the nature of our relationship. We are just in love and living together in her house. During our visit, I would be Bill and she would be Carrie, no Master and Slave talk. I asked her if she thought we could pull that off, and she said she thought so, but calling me Master was so ingrained now that it would take constant vigilance. I looked at her face and hands, and said that if she could learn to never put her lips together, to always keep her hands open, and to always keep her stomach muscles tight, she wouldn’t have any trouble remembering to call me Bill for a few hours. She asked what we would do if Beverly asked a specific question. I said she could do what she thought best, but my plan would be to tell her the truth if she asks. I would of course make sure Philip knew that before he decided if we should see Beverly.

I looked at the clock and saw that it was 9:05. I told her we would have one more glass of wine, then put her to bed. She gave me another “Oh, boy,” then said she would like an enema and to use the toilet before bed. I said Ok, and refilled the glass, and we quietly shared the wine until the glass was empty.

I stood up and whipped the blanket away from her. I bent down and grabbed her by both nipples, and asked in a sneering voice, “Does the Slave need help rising from the couch?”

“Oh yes, my mighty Master, all the help this poor weak Slave can get.” I pulled gently on her nipples and she pushed herself off the couch with her hands and stood up in one graceful move. “Cooperation is the key to success,” she said. I attached her hands behind her back and we walked to the toilet area, side by side with my arm around her shoulders.

After the enema, toilet, and bidet, we walked back to the bed. I asked her if she was sure this is what she wanted to do, and she said it was. I asked her if she had an attachment for the bed that her ass could rest on, to take the stress off of her spine and knees. She said she didn’t know there was supposed to be anything like that, she thought her ass had to remain free in the bed. I told her that rule would have been waived after the week of butt fucking was completed. She smiled and said, “You devious bastards.” I told her we would put her in the bed and then see what I could find to help support her butt. After she was installed, I asked her if she wanted her wrists attached at her sides or pulled down toward toward the floor. She said pulled down, that made her feel so deliciously helpless and vulnerable. I told her that was the whole purpose, and stretched her arms out straight below her.

I went looking for an ass support. I took the little table the training machine’s monitor sat on, put two six-packs of diet cola side by side on the table, then put a a chair cushion and a couple of pillows from the couch on the cola, then slid the whole thing under her ass. She asked what I was doing down there, and I asked her if she remembered the last time I was messing around down here and she didn’t know what I was up to. She said Yes, she hated me for doing that to her. I asked her how she felt about it now, and she said her pussy would always be naked for me.

Getting back to the ass support, the whole thing was now about a half inch away from touching her ass, so I just lowered the whole bed until I could see that most of the weight of her ass was now resting on the pillows. I asked her how that felt, and she said it was wonderful. I tried tweaking some of the other adjustments, like the height of the back support and the position of the calves, until we found the position that felt best for her. When I thought we had done the best we could, she asked me if it was Ok for fucking. I walked up until I was in contact with her open crotch. I said she wouldn’t believe it, but it’s great. I could keep my feet together and slide then between the legs of the table, or open them up and put them on either side of the table, and I had good access to both her pussy and her ass.

She said if I had such good access, what the hell was I waiting for, I told her that there was just more thing to figure out. The organization’s training room could provide a toasty environment for the Slave to sleep in without heating the whole room, we couldn’t do that here. Did she want the room heat turned up, or did she want a blanket put over her. She asked if that wouldn’t sort of spoil the effect of having a Slave laid out here in this humiliating pose, available for whatever evil tortures the Master chose to inflict on it, and then throw a blanket over it? I said, “Well you got me on that one. Does that mean you want the room heat turned up?” She said that would be nice, but not to make it too hot for the Master. I said, “Don’t get me wrong here, Carrie, I’m not making fun of you, but wouldn’t this be a good opportunity to ask that the room be made colder, so you can suffer to demonstrate your love for your Master?”

“It’s simple, Master, I can’t be a good fuck buddy for you on no sleep, unless you like fucking cadavers. Now speaking – again – of fucking, turn the fucking heat up and then get to fucking, unless you want to hear me honk some more.” I turned the thermostat up then walked up to her head, and said, “Ok if we do some preliminary work up at this end before heading back South?” I bent down and began passionately kissing her mouth while caressing her breasts and rolling her nipples between my finger and thumb. She couldn’t move at all, the only response she could make was with her lips and tongue, which were expressing themselves pretty well. I came up for air once, and she said, while panting for breath herself, “I’m so hungry for you, all the time, that it scares me. Tell me we’ll be like this always.”

I said, “If you mean together and still deeply in love, then Yes, we’ll be like this always. If you mean in our twenties, able to fuck twenty times a day and sleep in torture racks, think again, Sweetheart.”

“Then don’t you think you’d better get to it before we get any older?” she said, smiling.

“Aye, aye, ma’am,” I saluted and went to the other end. I buried my face in her pussy and messed around in there awhile with my lips and tongue, until I felt her come for the first time. Then went to work on her clit, and as I was becoming accustomed to, she started having nearly continuous orgasms. I let her continue like that for a few minutes, then plunged my cock into her and began stroking. While continuing to pump my hips, I bent over her, reached up to her breasts, and began stimulating her nipples again. “Oh, God,” she said, “I feel like there’s a wire between my nipples and my clit, what one feels the other feels, too. God, this is wonderful, don’t stop, please don’t stop, Master. Master of my body, my heart, my soul.” She took a deep breath, then screamed as loud as she could, “I love this man!”

“I heard you,” I said, “but now I can’t hear anything.”

“Don’t make me laugh, Master, I’m trying to go insane from pleasure. The pleasure you give me, Master.”

“I said that I was very close to coming, did she want me to slow down and try to keep it going longer. “No, Master,” she said, “move up here and come in my mouth. Please.”

I did, and I did. I was trying to readjust her headrest as I was coming, so she could breathe with my balls on her face. She didn’t even care, she was greedily trying to suck my cock dry. When we separated, I moved to her side, bent over and rested my head on her breasts, caressing her face. Every time a finger would stray to her mouth, she would try to catch it and suck on it.

When I had recovered some strength, I asked her where the dildoes were. She asked if I was sure I wanted to do that, and I said I was. She told me, and I walked over to the drawer and picked a relatively smooth one, about the same size and length as the real thing. There was also some lubricating jelly, and I grabbed that too. I greased up the dildo and eased it into her ass. After I started hearing moans from the other end, I tried bending over to see how hard it would be to tongue her clit while pumping the dildo with one hand. It was a little clumsy, but doable. I found I could also work on her breasts, one at a time, with my last free hand, so I worked on her like that for awhile. As usual, the orgasms started, but she must have been very tired by now, because she was only having about one a minute. She was making guttural noises, if you didn’t know what was going on you wouldn’t know if she was expressing pleasure or pain. I counted ten orgasms, then one big one, and she asked me to please stop. I stopped immediately and withdrew the dildo.

I walked back up to her head and asked if she was all right. From far away, she said that all right was a good way to put it, but fan-fucking-tastic might be better. I laughed, and asked her if there was anything she needed. She said all she needed was me, and I said she already had that, did she need anything else, like water, or to go upstairs and sleep in a real bed? She said she wanted to go to sleep with the taste of me in her mouth, and that this was a real bed, her Slave bed, where a Slave belongs. After a pause, she added “once in awhile” and grinned. I made sure her headrest was slightly elevated to help her sleep, and asked her if anything was too tight or needed adjustment. She said no, I should go to bed, I looked like I was about to collapse.

I staggered over to the Master’s toilet and relieved myself. I wanted to take a shower, but I decided it wouldn’t be fair for me to enjoy a shower while she was strapped onto that rack, I would wait until I could shower with her. I came out, fell on the couch, and immediately went to sleep.

I woke up when I heard her say “Master?” For an instant I didn’t know where I was or where she was, then I remembered. I sat up and looked at the clock, which read 7:15. Holy shit, I slept all night. I ran over to her, and asked if she was Ok. She said she was fine, she didn’t wake up once during the night, the ass support was wonderful. I apologized, told her that I had set the alarm to wake me up up 15 times during the night so I could fuck her each time, but the alarm didn’t go off. She smiled, then said that we were doing too much, it was wearing us out. I said that in spite of my “stupid episode” yesterday, I wanted her to set the pace as long as I could keep up, and we would work it out together. “Yes, we will. We’ll work out everything together.” she said.

I warned her that I was removing the support for her ass, then raised the bed until her ass was off of the cushions. I slid the makeshift platform out of the way, then rotated the bed up and extracted her. She looked at the platform, and said “Diet soda? I slept on diet fucking soda?”

“Yes, and I recall someone saying she got a good night’s sleep.”

“That’s right, I did. Good old diet soda.”

“Formal speech, Slave,” I said, and she immediately snapped into the Waiting Pose. I attached her wrists behind her back, went and rounded up the wine bottle and glass and the piss-soaked towel, then told her to go to the door. I set everything down in the mural room and removed her bonds. I told her to wait for me in the bathroom while I ordered breakfast. She said she wanted something different today, to order two of whatever I wanted. I went to find Philip, and put in our request for breakfast. I asked him to put it in the dining room today, and that Carrie had something to ask him about after we were cleaned up. I also told him that Carrie knew all about the guns, including the ones in the office, and I swore with my hand raised that I didn’t tell her. I added that she deserves to be included in the planning, not excluded, and that I wished he would consider that. He said he would, was that what Carrie wanted to talk to him about? I said no, it was something else, she had decided not to mention the guns to him for the same reason he had decided not to mention them to her, to keep him from worrying.

I joined her in the bathroom, and we watched each other on the commode then soaped and rinsed each other in the shower. Again we had to struggle to avoid another round of fucking.

We walked into the dining room, me fully dressed and Carrie in her wide open blouse and high heels. Food was on the table, and Philip was standing at the side of the room waiting for her to tell him what she wanted. I knew it bothered him to see her dressed like that or altogether naked, but it couldn’t be helped. I pulled back a chair for her and waited for her to sit down. This was the first time she had to bare her ass to sit in front of anyone but me, and she froze. I said, “Don’t wrinkle your blouse, Carrie.” She blushed, pulled the tail of the blouse up, and sat. I scooted her in, then took a seat myself.

I quickly got to the point, to move her past her embarrassment. I said, “Carrie, I told Philip you wanted to speak to him about the walk you suggested last night. Would you fill him in on our plans, please? Philip, please take a seat.” I indicate the chair across the table from Carrie. He thanked me and sat down.

She told him what we wanted to do, how we had planned to dress and behave, and that our story would be that we were in love and living together in this house, which is true. He raised his eyebrows and looked at me when she said we would just be Bill and Carrie, not Master and Slave. I just smiled at him. She added that we had discussed what we should do if Beverly became suspicious and started asking direct questions. She said that the Master intended to reply truthfully to any questions, and that she would also like to do that, but wasn’t sure it was the best thing to do. She also told him that we would welcome his company as well, and that we would not go at all if he disapproved of the plan. He asked when we planned to go, and she said we were hoping to do it today after lunch. She looked to me for confirmation of this, and I agreed with her.

Philip said he thought that was a fine idea, and that he would be pleased to go with us. He said he would like to call his wife and give her some warning if that was Ok, and we said by all means. So we made a date for 1:00 PM. While Philip was still present, I told Carrie that she should go and pick out a nice conservative skirt and blouse and comfortable shoes right after breakfast, and she said she would. We thanked Philip, and began devouring breakfast.

After breakfast we went to the bedroom. I took off her blouse, then told her to pick out some candidate outfits for this afternoon’s visit, and then she would model them for me. She took her time inspecting everything. She still had a lot of blouses and skirts to choose from, so it took her a while. Finally she had laid out four skirts, six blouses, and two pair of low-heeled shoes. I told her the shoes were easy, because I liked one pair and hated the other. She threw the ones I hated to the back of the closet.

I had her put on the selected shoes, then pick one of the skirts. She put it on, and then I told her to model the blouses she thought would go with it. The first skirt had only one blouse she would want to wear with it. She put it on and walked around the room for my inspection. After seeing it from every angle, I said “No.” She removed both and put them back in the closet. The next skirt had two possible blouses. I said “No.” to the first one, and “Maybe” to the second. The rejected blouse went back in the closet, the possible pair went to the other side of the bed. This kept going until there were were two blouse-skirt possibilities on the maybe side of the bed, and everything else was back in the closet. I had her model each possible pair again, twice. Finally I picked one, and the other one went back in the closet, but she kept them together to indicate that I didn’t hate them. She was standing there wearing the winners, and I asked her how I did. She shrugged and said, “Yeah, this was what I wanted to wear all along. Glad you figured it out.” I told her to take everything off and put it on hangers, then put her house blouse and high heels back on, and take the selected clothes and shoes to the outside transition area, ready to put on this afternoon. Then come to the mural room.

I was waiting for her in the mural room. As I was putting on her bonds, I said that I had told Philip that she knew about the weapons. She couldn’t speak now, but I knew she would have questions when we returned here from downstairs. I led her down the stairs and into the training room. I asked her if she wanted water or to use the toilet before we started, she shook her head No. We went to the weight bench, she sat and put on her shoes and socks while I attached the leash to her collar. I took her to the elliptical, and said “Slave, tell your Master what the Slave is going to do here today, now.”

She replied, “Master, the Slave is going to do 5 minutes of warmup, then dismount the elliptical trainer and do the stretching exercises the Slave has been shown, then the Slave is going to remount the elliptical trainer and exercise for 35 minutes during which the Slave will talk continuously to the Master and implement any changes in pace the Master commands, then the Slave will do 5 minutes of cool down, then dismount the elliptical trainer and repeat the stretching exercises, Master.”

I laughed. It was all one sentence, and she had said it in one breath, and it was exactly right. She even picked up on the 5-minute increase in exercise time from the previous day. “Slave, you make your Master proud,” I said. “Let’s start.” I attached her leash to the back of the trainer as she mounted it. I went around to the front and sat on the floor looking up at her. She could do the whole thing on autopilot, all I had to do was listen to her. I timed her anyway, in case she got carried away.

I called out at the 5-minute mark, and she stopped, climbed off, and did the stretching exercises to perfection. Then she climbed on again and started working her ass off, and began talking nonstop. Again she spent some time on trivia, but sooner that yesterday she got to the serious stuff.

She began with the progress she thought she was making in her grieving process over her husband and son. She said she was remembering events from their time together, and that it felt like she was being cleansed of the pain as the memories flooded back. She said that was why she blurted out the “I’m so horny I could honk” phrase yesterday afternoon, it just popped into her mind and she said it before she even remembered where it came from. She said that both happy and painful memories were coming back – she gave me many examples of both – and each one was like an opportunity to let go and say goodbye. I was so fascinated, I hated to say anything. But she was getting winded, so I told her gently to slow down a little. She nodded and continued talking.

She shifted gears and began talking about her memories of Philip and Beverly from when she was a little girl. She told me how kind and loving they were to her, and how safe she felt with them. She said she knew that there were very unpleasant things that Philip had done in her father’s service (she referred to him as her “real” father, but it was clear that as far as love- and caregiving were concerned, Philip was her real father), but she always thought of Philip as someone who could do no wrong. She said it was important to her that nothing happen this afternoon to change Beverly’s opinion of her. She accepted that it was necessary to (“contaminate” was the word she use here) Philip’s opinions, because Philip was always in the house and it was up to the Master to decide how the Slave would behave and dress in the house. I again broke my own rule at this point, to reassure her that I would do everything possible, perhaps even lie to Beverly if I had to, to protect Beverly’s memories of Carrie.

She finally got around to us. She said I had scared her yesterday at fucking site 1. She said that at first it seemed I was turning on her, and she couldn’t understand why I would do that, and she was afraid I was getting ready to dump her. Then she saw that my feeling of inadequacy and my fear of sexual failure were behind it all, and she knew she had to make it right, that she would not allow our relationship to be destroyed by male sexual hang-ups. She said that there was no one with more sexual hang-ups than her, and she had put them all behind her. She knew that her Master could do the same, and she would not allow him to fail in this regard. I said, “Ouch, but every point is valid, keep going.”

She said she was proud to endure the shocks of the training machine for her Master last night. She wished they had left marks on her body, that she could wear as testaments to her love for and commitment to her Master. She said that the love, devotion, and attention her Master showed her last night after she left the training machine, while installing her in her bed, and during their love making, touched her to the core of her being and would never be forgotten.

I hated to interrupt her, but I told her the 35 minutes were up, slow to the cool down speed. She slowed down, but kept talking. She told me how it felt this morning to bare her ass in Philip’s presence. She said she knew it was irrational, that her whole front, boobs to pussy, were out there to see, but pulling the tail of her blouse up and baring her ass with him present was the hardest thing she had ever done. Now she knew she had to do it in public, in front of strangers, but preferably in front of people who knew and respected her. I made a mental note that this would always have the “but” attached to it, “but not in front of Beverly.”

Then she blew my mind. She said that maybe we could rent out Carnegie Hall some day, and fill it with society people. The curtain would go up, she would walk out on the stage, and everyone would recognize her as one of elite among them, and they would applaud. She would bow, then pull up a tight dress to bare her ass, and sit on a cold metal park bench. Then, when she had warmed the park bench with her ass, she would stand up, smooth her dress, walk to a cold marble slab, raise her dress and sit again. When she had warmed the marble slab, she would stand and smooth her dress again, then move to a block of ice, raise her dress, and sit again. When the block of ice was all melted, her Master would come out on the stage and announce that he was not one of them, and that he despised them all. He would say it was he this woman had just suffered and humiliated herself for. Then he would tear her clothes off, revealing the body she kept in exquisite form for him alone. He would whip her all over, bend her over the park bench, and fuck her until she passed out. Everyone would applaud, then go home to resume their empty lives, knowing that her life was filled with devotion to her Master. She said she would die for the chance to do that for her Master.

I didn’t hear anything she said after that. I don’t know what I was doing during the interval, but I was somewhere else. When I returned to the here and now, she had been doing cool down for 9 minutes and was still talking. I told her time was up, to get off and do her stretches. While she was doing stretches, I asked her where the Carnegie hall imagery came from, if it was something she had been thinking about. She said No, it just came into her mind while she was talking, but it wasn’t an exaggeration of the extremes she would welcome the opportunity to go to for her Master.

I said it was a scary prospect to me, that anyone would think of doing something that public to show her submission to me. She said she wasn’t “anyone,” and there was no limit to her submission to me, and she welcomed any opportunity her Master would provide for her to show it. I was really feeling a sense of dread now, and I said her Master was ordering her not to do anything on her own to prove her submission to me, that she was making me worry that she might accidentally harm herself trying to prove something that I did not need proof of. I told her that there was nothing more important to her Master than the partnership that was being forged between the Master and the Slave. I said that her enslavement and her submission and our love for one another were the foundation of that partnership, and that they were beyond question by the Master, and did not require demonstration by the Slave. I asked her if that was clear to her, and she said that she had not intended to scare or worry her Master, that she had no intention of harming herself to prove a point to the Master, and she apologized for getting carried away with her babbling. She had finished stretching, and I thanked her for the reassurances and kissed her. But honestly, I was worried.