Training on the Train

Training on the Train

He is quite wealthy, but that is not why I love him. He is elegant, but that is not it either. He is beautiful, but that does not matter. What matters? His love and care for me. His interest in every detail of my life. His intelligence. His firmness. His kindness.
He is the owner and CEO of a private rail car company, catering to the old money. We do, therefore, travel by train. He has told me that he wishes me to accompany him on all of his trips - both business and pleasure. When we are on the train, however, I belong to him. Totally. His private car is decorated beautifully, in a lovely 1950's style but with all modern conveniences carefully concealed. He has decorated everything. He has chosen the furniture, the art, the linens, even my clothing. In keeping with the style, I will  dress in a vintage manner when entertaining his clients. Demure, sweet and always modest. However, in our private car, I will not dress unless specifically instructed to do so. Sometimes he will wish me to wear heels, sometimes a corset, sometimes only pearls. Mostly, though, he prefers me to be nude. He will use my body as he will. I will speak when spoke to only. I will be his humble and loving servant and he my loving and dominant master. I have agreed to all of this, but now I must prove to him that I truly want this.
This trip will be a short one - only three days. This will be a trial run, if you will, to see if this arrangement truly suits us both. I walk into the car and marvel at its beauty. I turn and smile at him. He crosses his arms and gives me a pointed look. A hot blush creeps up my face. My first act was to have been removing my clothing, but already I have made a mistake. I have sighed and run my hand over the furnishings first. I drop my eyes and rush into the bedroom section, removing my dress, bra, panties, stockings and shoes. I neatly fold them and put them away just as he instructed me. They are to be out of the way - out of sight. I come back into the parlour and stand before him. Now, he smiles at me, lifts my chin and kisses me, running his hands up and down my sides, my back, my arms. he deepens the kiss and grasps my nipples. Then he squeezes. I give a little yelp and start to pull away but stop myself. I hear him chuckle a bit and know he has not missed this tiny lapse. I also know he is please I corrected myself. He squeezes harder and I whimper at the pain, but feel my will bend to his, dripping out of my body and forming the honey which coats my pussy and thighs. I begin to tremble and he slowly pulls his mouth away. Keeping hold of my tender nipples, he leads me to the table and tells me to place my hands flat. He adjusts my position to his liking and then tells me to prepare myself for my first correction. I take a deep breath and steady myself. Still, I can't stop myself from crying out with the first sharp strike of the leather slapper. Four slaps - two on each cheek - and I'm already crying. Nonetheless, I am grateful, a feeling which shocks me. Without thinking, turn, drop to the floor and hug his legs, thanking him for his correction. I feel loved, safe, wanted.


Three days later, he holds out his hand and helps me down the steps of our car. He must help me, not only because he is a gentleman, but because I can barely walk on my own. My bottom is red and welted. my thigh muscles strained and shaky, my pussy swollen and tender, my anus still filled with a rather large plug. I wobble a bit on my black pumps and he steadies me. I look up at his soft eyes and smile. I can't wait for the next trip.

Spanking Story of the Week

What did you do?
I broke a rule.
Which one?
I forgot to call you back when you left the message this morning.
Indeed. I understand you can't always answer your phone, but I do expect you to call me back when you are free to do so.
Yes, Sir. I understand and take full responsibility. 

Sir sat down and pulled me over his lap. The only sound was that of his hand smacking against my bottom and of my sobs. This was the second time I had forgotten to return his call so I knew what was coming and fully accepted my correction. Ten minutes of his hand coming down relentlessly.  My  bottom was already on fire and I had no idea how much longer was left. My face was pointed down and would remain so. I had agreed to this correction and so I had no right to complain. My crying was useless but I couldn't stop myself. Besides, he enjoyed my tears. Without them, he told me, he had no notion that his correction was taking effect. Just when I thought I could take no more, he stopped. The first round was over. You see, each time I broke the same rule, my correction was added to. The first time I received ten minutes of a hard hand spanking. This time, I again receive that correction plus an additional five minutes with my the back of my wooden brush. I sobbed and, thankfully, Sir soothed my bottom a  bit.

Then, the first strike of the brush. I screamed, jerking my body. Five minutes of this? I couldn't stand it. But I would. Both he and I knew I would endure, that I would accept. Again and again the brush came down. Rhythmically striking low on one cheek, then the other. My sit spot, the back of my thighs, the fleshy curve of my already tender bottom. He spread the beating over my entire ass, being sure that no spot was left unattended. I sobbed, ears dripping onto the floor. Suddenly, I realized that the spanking had stopped and he was gently rubbing my punished flesh. Still I cried from both pain and shame. Really, was asking to return his call too much? Of course not. I had been careless. I slid from his face and released his cock. He smiled down at my tear streaked face and gave his approval. I opened my mouth and showed him my love. Keeping my eyes locked with his, I swallowed his rod, massaging gently his lovely balls until I felt them tighten. Throwing his head back and pressing my face down to the base, he gave me his full forgiveness and released his blessing down my throat.

Summer Roses

Summer is here and so are the roses. I love my roses and spend hours every day cultivating them, pruning them, weeding around them. My yard is fulled with roses - all neatly arranged in an English style garden. I love the feel of the velvety petals, the heady scent, the sturdy stems, the tortuous thorns. My Love enjoys all of this as well. He sits now, in the gazebo, watching me at my work. I wear a simple white cotton sundress and white Keds. I look up at him, sipping his wine, and smile. I see his eyes darken and know he is becoming aroused. He stands and inclines his head toward my Play House. This is a foolish name, but he chose it and so I go along with it. 

My Play House is a small cabin build on the back lot of our home. We live on the outskirts of a small town and own quite a bit of wooded and cultivated property. It's a lovely little structure. One room, really. Electricity for the air conditioner and hot water heater, but a Franklin stove for the winter heat and small amounts of cooking and oil lamps or candles for light. Two straight backed chairs, a tiny drop leaf table, a double bed and a bathtub, stool and sink. At the foot of the bed is a steamer trunk filled with supplies, on the wall one cabinet filled with towels and bed linens, on hooks by the door jackets and a few other articles of clothing.

Shaking my head a bit, I return to my task, now slightly altered simply by a look from him. I cut four roses, bright red this time, and leave the stems long. When I enter the Play House holding them, he is already seated on one of the chairs. I place the roses on the table and remove my clothing, hanging the dress on a hook. Here, I am nude. Always. I kneel and wait for his instructions.

He has tied my wrists to the headboard and blindfolded me. I love the blindfold. It and his silence force me to pay attention only to sensations. I hear a harsh clipping sound then, something hard and narrow inserted, just barely, into my cunt. No need to worry about wetness. The moment I enter the Play House I am ready for him. His finger on my clit, the object enters further. A rose stem. He has trimmed every thorn from it and is using it to fuck me. In and out. His fingers torturing my clit. I pant and come so very close. Then, he stops. He leaves the rose inside of me but stops moving it.

He climbs on top of me, still clothed. and whispers in my ear, "It's going to be a long afternoon for you. I want to see you squirm, beg, cry out from my treatment of you. But be sure of this, my love. You will cum only when I allow it."

Hold On Tight

Hold on tight.
Don't let go.
Don't scream or yell
if you don't want the neighbors to know
Either way, I won't stop
not until you've had ten.
five to each cheek.
Not because I'm angry.
Not because you're bad.
Because this pleases me
and you're already wet
just knowing what's to come.

The Pillory

She stood, bent, her head and wrists locked in the pillory. She knew her guilt. She had tempted the Man. Flirted outrageously. Now, she was His prisoner. He'd grabbed her arm, marched her to the centre of town and locked her in. The townspeople gathered around, knowing her nature and His. Knowing this was to be spectacle for all to enjoy.

First, He scolded her, announcing to the town her indecent actions and her wantonness. Then, he ripped her skirt off of her. She shrieked. Not yet content, he also ripped off her blouse. She stood in only her drawers and corset, helpless, grateful for her long hair covering her face.  He pulled out his knife, showing her the shimmer of the blade. Slowly, her ran the knife along her spine, cutting the cords of her corset, allowing it to fall from her body, exposing her breasts. He pulled apart her drawers, the cool air now caressing her naked bottom. He rubbed His cock against her wet slit, entering her quickly, hard,pounding against her. His hand came down on her ass, spanking her with a resounding smack. Over and over again until tears fell from her face.

The townspeople shouted their approval, encouraging Him. She deserved her humiliation and they would be satisfied with nothing less. One man came up to him and offered him a smooth, large carrot. Accepting the hard vegetable, He rubbed it against her anus. Slowly, making sure she felt every movement, he pushed it into her. Six inches of hard, orange wood entering her bottom. He held it in place and continued to fuck her. Within minutes, he pulled out, cumming on her red bottom.

She panted, wanting more, terrified and humiliated. Her bottom was on fire and her anus was stretched to the point that she feared her body would split in two. He stepped in front of her, then stood on a tall box, his dripping member in front of her eyes. He grasped her hair and when her mouth popped open, He placed his cock inside. The vegetable man now took his turn, keeping the carrot deep inside her and fucking her cunt. In due time, he too pulled out and spent his hot seed on her bottom. He was again becoming hard in her mouth. He tore off his belt and leaning slightly over her, smacked her bottom. She screamed around His cock, but he continued. He fucked her mouth until his hot cream slid down her throat.

The townspeople cheered.

He pulled away. Leaning down He whispered. "three more hours, my dear. And three more times will I cum in or on you. Three more men as well as me will use you. Each of your holes will be used, violated, enjoyed. That will teach you a proper lesson, will it not?"

"Yes, my dear Sir. It will."

Good Friday

No, we are not religious. Still, what a great opportunity to "repent" and "suffer" for sins. So, here i am. tied to the Cross - the St. Andrew's Cross. I have been scorged with a cat. No blood, thank the Lord, but welts. Beautiful red welts. I feel the heat from them radiate throughout my body. My shoulders, ass, thighs, calves - all marked by His hand. Now,  He unties me, turns me so my marks are against the Cross. He reties me - securely. No way can I move to avoid anything he has planned (not that I want to.) Fire shoots through my cunt. He's applying the cat to it now. I scream, thrashing my head. He says nothing, just continues His minstrations. Finally, he stops, but only to retrieve a new device. Thorns. He runs the rose stem over my breasts, gently, slowly. The thorns snag slightly on my delicate skin and I wince. This many not seem like much, but I will feel these pinpoints of agony for days. Down my stomach, my inner thighs he runs the stem, lightly pricking my skin. He stands, kisses me and I no longer feel any pain. His hand reaches for a nipple while his mouth devours mine. He pulls, twists. I cry out against his mouth but he continues. After a time, he moves to the other nipple and it too receives the same treatment. I gasp when he pulls away. He steps to the table holding his toys. He holds up a pair of nipple clips. He tweaks the already tender nipple and mercilessly attaches the clip, screwing the device down until I am begging for mercy. Once both nipples are clipped He kneels before me, his mouth on my swollen cunt, two fingers in my ass. I come. Screaming his name. I hear him laugh. Now, he stands, reaches for a metal egg. I whimper. He just smiles at me and proceeds to fill my ass with the hard, cold egg. I wince at its intrusion and then sigh in relief when it settles. I feel full, kept, used. His.

Now he unties me, holding me to keep me from falling. He carries me to the bed. My whole body is a mass of exposed nerves, which is exactly what he wanted. Finally. Finally he takes me. Fills my cunt with his sword. Again, no mercy. he fucks me hard and I orgasm the moment he enters me. Too quickly, he also cums, filling me with his seed.

"Ready for the Centurians?" he asks.
"That's right. Now that you're all prepared, I have a few soldiers waiting to use you as well. When they finish, it's my turn again. Then, I'll take your ass. You will be ravaged all day long. Questions?"

"No, Sir. But thank you."

Testing

This will be our little experiment.  My girl needs more discipline at times. Sure, we have our weekly maintenance, but at times, my hand is simply not enough. Therefore, today, I've decided that we will test out a variety of implements. One at a time. Slowly. She is blindfolded so that she can judge by feel alone. I will not touch her except with the leather. She is to remain in position without restraints. I will allow no more than one minute between strikes. One mark per implement. One strike. When I finish, she will tell me which she preferred. Which stung the most. Which left the longest sting after the strike. Which she fears the most. Then, I will turn her over, use the back side of her body. Strike again - just once - with the three choices. Finally, I will decide which brought the desired reaction, felt the most comfortable in my hand, left the most interesting mark.

And so we begin.

Gaia

Woman

I am your world.

Without me, the earth crumbles

wiped out with an infusion of testosterone

and fear. 

Dominance only and a struggle of arrogance.

I am softness and possibilities

I am temperance and tolerance.

You may breathe in the sweetness of my atmosphere

And fill your lungs with lemon and patchouli and lavender and musk.

You may taste the quenching waters of my honeyed stream

And fill your cells with joyous refreshment.

You may scale my mound of Venus

And fill your spirit with strength and purpose.

I am the Gaia sent here to rejuvenate,

To nourish the minds and bodies of children,

To comfort and encourage the old,

To stimulate and motivate the static.

I am the giver of pleasure and retribution.

I am the provider of dreams and nightmares.

I am the holder of secrets and fears.

I am the hope of the desperate and needy.

I am Woman.

Dare you to take this and post the results.

BDSM Quix'

You Scored as SwitchUrban Dictionary: Switch- A person who facilitates between dominant and submissive roles within sexual relations. Switch 96% Experimental 93% Submissive 93% Exhibitionist / Voyeur 86% Bondage 82% Masochist 68% Dominant 57% Sadist 54%