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.

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.

Learning Domestic Discipline - Trust

I have asked for this. I have signed an agreement. We wrote the agreement together so I have no right to complain, therefore, being a practical, I won't. Today, I will begin my training as his Domesticated Wife. I don't work outside of my home since Mr. has a very good salary. We have no children, nor do we want any. Our marriage was becoming stagnant and Mr. was becoming more and more irritated with my crabby attitude, so he suggested this change. I read all the research on Domestic Discipline and I came up with a few adjustments, he came up with a few adjustments, and now here we are. The first day of "boot camp".

We are starting with Attitude Adjustment rather than physical discipline. That will come later in the week. For now, I need to learn that as his wife, my duty is not only to love him (which I have for most of my life!) but also to please him and trust him. His duty is to love me and provide for my safety, security and well-being. To begin this, He has taken away all of my clothing. He's locking it away in one of the three spare bedrooms (yes, we have a beautiful, big house). He has the key so there is no way I can get to anything. He has also installed a lock on his dressing room so I can't even get to his clothes! I am, basically, a modest woman and the idea of being totally nude even in my own home fills me with fear and humiliation. Still, I need to learn to trust his judgement. I am terrified that someone will see me - through a window, an unexpected visitor. I am also humiliated that I am nude and he is totally dressed. I want to hide, but this is all part of my training - a training I agreed to. I just didn't realize it would be so hard.

I begin to make bread, a regular Sunday activity. Mr. stands behind me and touches me. I want to push his hands away, but I don't. He presses my back and my boobs are now covered in flour. He touches me, runs his hands down my back. I'm panting. His fingers trail to my slit and he chuckles, feeling the wetness. He kisses the back of my neck and I moan. He dips his fingers into my honey and worries my clit. I close my eyes and explode into his hand. He laughs, slaps my bottom and whispers, "You've made me happy, Lisa."

For some reason, these words, more than the orgasm I just experienced, warms me and brings me pleasure.

"Keep this up and you'll be earning back your clothing in no time," he assures me. He snags a cookie from the jar and leaves me to finish kneading my bread.

I now understand why he took away my clothes. Perhaps enforced nudity isn't so bad after all.

Spanking Day

I've looked forward to this day all week. I always do. Most people hate Mondays, but not me. Monday is Spanking day. A day that I spend naked, nothing more than an object of beauty and sexuality. I am no longer a professional, nor do I have the worries of today's worlds. I am free of all work, all stress, all concerns. I am beauty and I simply have one decision to make - yes or no. I choose yes.

The day begins with a shower, shaving my legs, arms, cat. I lotion up with delightfully scented cream. Then, I go to the parlour. This room is only used on Mondays. It is my sanctuary. Heavy red velvet curtains cover the windows, a plush red carpet for my bare feet. A large winged leather chair for Him, a love seat, a liquor cabinet, a small table with two straight backed chairs, a chaise lounge. Inside the closet lie the toys he may choose to use. Once I enter, I am his. I eat what and when he tells me, I drink at his discretion, I use the restroom only when given permission. I make no decisions.

He is waiting for me, seated on one of the straight back chairs. He folds the paper he was reading and smiles at me. I smile in return. He turns his chair slightly and I position myself over his lap. He begins slowly, softly and I sigh. Really, this is more of a massage than a spanking. I do not think of what is to come, I focus on the pleasure of the moment. He increases his force, but not his speed. I feel a sting now and relax into his hand. My pussy is beginning to swell and my nipples are tightening. My hands are braced on the carpet. I will not remove them. If I do, that is his signal to stop. I curl my fingers into the plushness as he continues. His hand hard, unforgiving. My honey is flowing now and I am biting my lip, but I  have yet to cry real tears. He knows this and will not stop until I do or if I lift my hands.

His hands cover my bottom, the tops of my thighs, the famous sit spot. I know not where the next blow will land but I am grateful for each one. My skin is on fire and my mind is floating. Pain and pleasure merge into peace. Tears cover my face and suddenly I am in his arms. He kisses my tears and holds me. He tells me that I am beautiful, I am perfect, I am his. I am at peace.

27 years

Our Golden anniversary is upon us. We will have been married 27 years on the 27th of this month. To celebrate, he has stated that the number will be repeated. For the next 27 days I will be required to remain nude or wear only an apron or approved clothing while in the house. When we go out together, he will either choose or approve my clothing.

 I will be spanked at least 27 times each day.
I will have my nipples clamped for at least 27 minutes each day.
He will fuck me and cum on or in me for the next 27 days.
I will wear a plug of his choosing for a minimum of 27 minutes each day.
He will fuck me any time, any where, for as long as he chooses during the next 27 days.
He will share me as he wishes for the next 27 days.
I will behave with respect and obedience for the next 27 days.
My bottom will be red for 27 days.
My pussy sore, my nipples tender for 27 days.
My asshole will be used in some manner for 27 days.
My mouth with be fucked for 27 days.

Is it disobedient for me to hope that after 27 days, He will still use me as such?