Training a slave- part two

The books I leant you germinated that desire, uncovering thoughts that had before only existed in your subconscious.

The possibility that you could make the theme of those books your reality only served to further add fuel to the fire.

By the time you had read and signed the slave contract, you were inescapably bound to answer the desire that had begun to grow inside you, and from that moment on that seedling became MINE.”

I paused to let the words sink in

“Unfortunately for you, I am not prepared to allow the need within you to gently flower, as my patience and time do not allow it.

After finding and recognizing your needs, I intend drag them out of you kicking and screaming, moulding and shaping them to my own end.
”
I realized I was beginning to shout.

“Can you understand that?” I asked, sternly
“I’m sorry Master, “
she began quietly
“I do want to serve you, I want you to use me as you see fit. I can see my life has so much more worth in serving you, but the pain…its… I can’t describe it.”
She floundered, unable to put the intense agony into words.
“The whip is an important part of my process. I am teaching you by association. You have already begun to associate refusal to obey with intense, unbearable pain. Your brain is already beginning to encourage you to obey my voice without question, in order to escape a further punishment, an action you have no control over.
Despite this you are claiming to be more knowledgeable about these methods than me?”

“No Master, I…”

“Perhaps it should be up to you to choose the time and manner of your punishment?”

She began to sob again

“No Master, I’m sorry, you obviously know best, but I don’t think I could take another...”
Her words tailed off in fear as she watched me walk to her right flank and raise the switch high above my head
“Your behaviour this morning has been disgraceful, not in the least appropriate for a slave under my instruction”, I intoned, in a matter of fact voice

“Pleease!…Don’t!…”

She heard the switch before she felt it, its thin, whippy end tracing a delicate, fleeting arc through the air. The resulting crack as it met her tender flesh was drowned out by her scream, her head thrown back, eyes wide, every sinew in her neck stretched to breaking, her face a mask of contorted agony.

Unconsciously her legs had begun to flail again, oblivious to the pain that it was obviously causing in her cuffed wrists.
Before the waves of nauseating pain had had chance to abate I struck again, just above the first, harder this time, relishing in the sound the supple switch made in the confines of the cellar.
No scream this time, just a look of frozen disbelief on her face at the new level of pain that she was suffering.

The silence soon gave way to a fresh shriek of agony however, as I delivered a third, yet harder blow, just above the previous two.

Her frame rigid, her spine arched in a futile attempt to pull her buttocks away from the source of the pain, I began to rain fierce, scything blows across her behind, gritting my teeth and perspiring slightly with the exertion.

As her body desperately tried to re-enforce its psychological barriers to the pain, I continued my assault upon her already damaged flesh.

Gasping, she began to succumb to the excruciating pain, howling like a whipped dog, tears flowing freely across her cheeks, her breath coming in short laboured gasps and her entire body-weight hanging from the cuffs over her head, the muscles in her legs too weak to support her.

Eventually I ceased, breathing heavily, and wiping the sheen of perspiration from my forehead.

“NOW do we have an understanding?” I asked.

It was a moment before she could muster enough energy to speak, and it was difficult to discern her words through the sobbing.

“Yes Master, I’m sorry Master, I won’t question you again,” she babbled.

She sounded genuine, the comments seeming less contrived than before. I had to be sure.
I walked behind her, tucking the switch under my arm. Very gently, despite the resulting groans of pain, I began to massage her scarlet, angry flesh.

“Don’t run away with the idea that I’m doing you a favour, “ I said after a few moments had passed.

“I’m rubbing life back into your numb flesh to ensure you feel the rest of your punishment.” I finished, re-taking my stance by her right flank.

Her eyes desperately sought mine

“Jesus... NO.... PLEASE!!!”

CRACK!

“NOW will you accept your position as a slave?” I asked patiently, when her howling had abated

“Yes, Yes, of course I’m yours just please don’t…Oh, GOD!…”

CRACK!

“And I presume you wish to thank me for taking the time and considerable effort to punish you for your impudence today?”

“Yes I’m so sorry… Thank you Master, thank you, but please don’t..!”

She was no longer in control of her speech, in a last desperate attempt to avoid any more pain; her brain was joining her body in defeat.

“CRACK!”

this time, rather than a scream a whimper.

Faintly, behind the other sounds in the room, I discerned the noise of trickling water. I looked down and saw the spreading puddle of fluid trickling down her legs and collecting at her feet. She had probably been waiting to use the toilet all night; I mused, and had finally lost the battle to hold onto her dignity
Trying not to smile, I addressed her again

“So there can be no mistake about the level of behaviour I expect from you?”

“No Master, I’ll do anything that you…. NOOOO!”

CRACK!!!

The switch whistled through the air for a final time, the last strike being the hardest and most damaging yet.

“If I should deign it necessary to punish you for any reason, you will submit to the that punishment willingly, or the suffering will be twice as bad, do you understand?”

She nodded wildly, “Please, No more, I’m so sorry I disobeyed you… ”

I stood back to observe her for amount, hanging limply from the concrete ceiling beam, her eyes red with tears, her chest heaving with uncontrollable emotion, her legs swaying from side to side, trying and failing to hold her body weight.

“I’d like to think, that after a bad start, we’ve made some progress this morning” I commented, thoughtfully.

“Yes Master” she whispered, almost inaudibly.

“But perhaps we’d better leave you in this position for a while, to give you time to reflect upon what you’ve learnt”
“Yes, oh yes” she uttered, glad to be left fettered, knowing that at least the whip was being hung back on the wall.

Taking one more admiring look at the effect my exertions had had on her behind, I mounted the stairs, leaving her in the cold dimly lit confines of her prison, gently whimpering as she watched my retreating figure, the desperate all encompassing need to caress and sooth her damaged rear prevented by the unyielding chains above her head.

Relaxing back upstairs, sipping a fresh cup of coffee, I marvelled at the change that had been brought about over such a short space of time. It seemed like an age ago that she had arrived, conservatively dressed in faded jeans and t-shirt, nervously handing me her completed contract.

Then she had been as excited as she was nervous, looking forward to the thrill that she expected this new experience would give her. It was safe to assume, I mused, that this was not entirely what she had expected.